The Prospector – by Twighlight

“THE PROSPECTOR.”

Here’s a song for the sturdy prospector,
For the men who have blazed the track ;
For the men who have borne the hardships,
And have opened the Fields–Out Back.

With a supply that was scant they started .
With the pick and the water-bag ;
And they have fought against perils and hardships
When the bravest of hearts might have flagged.

Where the sun, like a fiery furnace.
Strikes the earth with a merciless glare,
Till all hut the iron-like mulga
Has crumbled and died in despair.

Where the scorching wind howls o’er the ridges.
And the dust clouds are driven ahead ;
Where the landscape’s a glaring red desert–
Like the ghost of a world that is dead.

They have fossicked away without ceasing-
They are men with the patience of Job;
They have suffered a hundred reverses
In search of a payable lode.

Now the trains rush into the desert,
Where cities have sprung up like maize ;
And the thundering stampers sing peans
Of the men of the earlier days.

And the rattle and din of the traffic
All day through the hurrying streets
Re-echoes in praise of the heroes-
The heroes who knew not defeat.

Then, cheer ye the sturdy prospectors,
‘The men who have blazed the track ;
Who have conquered drought, heat and privation,
And have opened the Fields–Out Back.

by TWILIGHT. July 28 1907