Evening Journal 3 May 1890, page 3
DIED OF THIRST
By Ned
The midday sun poured down his fiery rays
Upon Australia’s burnt and arid plains,
And shone on one who now for nigh three days
Had suffered thirst, that worst of frightful pains.
He staggers on beneath his heavy swag,
Heavy from weakness rather than from weight
His band grasps tight his empty water bag’
He pushes forward with unsteady gait.
Mile after mile he goes, until at last
He halts and gazes vacantly around.
“My God!” he cries “my strength is failing fast”
Then reels and falls upon the burning ground.
Reason forsakes him in his fearful pain,
Then comes a troubled sleep, in which he sees
Water in plenty feels delightful rain,
and sees bright streams flowing near shady trees.
Once more he wakes and tries to rise in vain
Once more he painfully for water cries,
Then falls upon the burning sands again—
With quivering limbs, he stretches out and dies.
Moya Sharp
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