He walks out in the morning under the gum-trees up the path to the station.
It is 1974, and this is his only world.
He works in it and it comes to him
—Distrustful, still, but it comes.
He is in Melbourne, he walks in its lively ruins…
He walks out in the morning under the palm-trees up the street to his counting-house.
It is 4,500 B.C. and this is his only world.
He works in it and it comes to him
—Distrustful, still, but it comes.
He is in Dilmun, Mohenjo-Daro, Ur, and they will clearly last forever…
Bruce Dawe (1930 – 2020) was an Australian poet and academic.
