Henry Lawson

Outside

I want to be lighting my pipe on deck,
      With my baggage safe below—
I want to be free of the crowded quay,
      While the steamer’s swinging slow.
I want to be free of treachery,
      And of sordid joys and griefs—
To be out of sight of the faces white,
      And the waving of handkerchiefs.
 
I want to be making my ship-board friends,
      I want to be free of the past—
I want to be laughing with kindred souls,
      While the Heads are opening fast.
I want to be sailing far to-day,
      On the tracks where the rovers go,
To feel the heave of the deck, and draw
      The breath that the rovers know.
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