Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GRAVE OF A NIGGER, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GRAVE OF A NIGGER, by                    
First Line: "'yes, it's true that's the grave of a nigger"
Last Line: Where foam-waters gurgled their way.'
Subject(s): "aborigines, Australian;death;family Life;heroism;horse Racing;" "dead, The;relatives;heroes;heroines;


"YES, it's true that's the grave of a nigger
Who rode to his death long ago,
In the old days when I was no bigger
Than a youngster—just fourteen or so."

'Twas a stalwart old stockman was speaking,
His beard and scant locks were of snow
As his mind the dim shadows was seeking
Of men that he once used to know.

"A month of hard mustering had ended,
Our horses were jaded and sore,
The mob of store bullocks extended
For half a mile past the hut door.

"In the hut was a din and a rattle,
Six men, with the drover, McShane,
And a blackboy took charge of the cattle
That spread like a cloud on the plain.

"All their horses were tied to the railings,
Their thirty weeks' trip had begun,
And a score of worn stirrup-bars trailing
Shone bright in the red rising sun.

"Down the slope came the owner, Jim Baily,
His young wife and child at his side,
And old Charge in the shafts, going gaily,
Flung back the turf every stride.

"A good horse, sir, that well knows his master,
A terror when out of your hand;
To neglect him was courting disaster,
You never could trust him to stand.

"With a snort at the yard-wings he halted;
'I want just a word with McShane,'
Baily said to his wife as he vaulted
The sliprails and threw her the rein.

"She had no thought of the horse or her danger—
The love that a young mother feels
For her first-born made care be a stranger;
She let the reins drop at his heels.

"A mad plunge, a shrill scream, and we darted
To stop him, we came at a run,
But too late, for the old demon started
To go like a shot from a gun.

"We looked round, for the blackboy was fetching
Old Nero full speed at the fence,
Like a greyhound the old horse was stretching,
That fierce fatal race to commence.

"He went over and off like an arrow,
Through low stunted timber he crashed,
By a bridle-track, winding and narrow,
Till out on the open he dashed.

"Like a flash by the old camp they travel,
Old Nero lost blood every stride,
Flinty sparks were sent back with the gravel,
'T was splendid to watch the boy ride.

"As he gained in the chase he grew bolder,
Bent low in a grand final run;
He was soon racing shoulder to shoulder
But found that old Nero was done.

"Then he did the brave deed of a hero
As speechless we watched from the yard:
At one instant the boy urging Nero,
The next on Charge pulling hard.

"He has turned, and my God he is facing
The waterfall, fifty yards on,
With the bit in his teeth madly racing—
'Farewell, wife and child, hope is gone.'

"They were the first words Baily had spoken,
Then he turned with a heartrending cry,
'How can I see my happiness broken,
Or look at my cherished ones die?'

"Wailing cries smote the boy to remind him
The danger was not all his own,
So, to save the two lives just behind him,
He manfully yielded his own.

"Only two lengths in front Death was gaping
Where waters fell foaming and wild,
He had no thought of himself of escaping,
But all for the woman and child.

"With his teeth set and muscles distended
The boy took a last pull in vain,
Then his knife through the sunlight descended,
The hame-strap was severed in twain.

"Then free was the horse and his rider,
One plunge and the world was behind;
They had crossed the great gulf that is wider
Than ever was known to mankind.

"Wife and child, free from their troubles,
Looked down where their rescuer lay,
And they saw his life-blood stain the bubbles,
Where foam-waters gurgled their way."





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