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C J Dennis - The Vision
Work rating: Low

Of things that roam about the bush I ain`t got many fears,
For I knows their ways an` habits, and I`ve chummed with them for years.
   For man or beast or gully ghost I`ve pluck enough to spare;
   But I draws the line at visions with the sunlight in their hair.

When a man has fought an` conquered it is good in many ways:
There`s the pride in having done it, an` the other fellows` praise;
   There`s the glory an` the standin` that you get among the men -
   All their looks are more respectful since I socked it into Ben.

I was feelin` fine this mornin` when I started out to work;
An` I caught myself high-steppin` with a boastful sort of jerk;
   With my head a trifle higher an` my eye a little stern.
   I thought the world was mine for keeps; but I`d a lot to learn.

Young Dick, the Dusty, wasn`t half as cheeky as of old;
The men were actin` friendly-like, but I kept kind of cold
   An` distant, as becomes a bloke who`s scored a knock-out thump -
   Till just approachin` dinner time; an` then I got my bump.

It`s fine to see your cobbers lookin` at you like the know
You`re not a man to trifle with; at least, I found it so.
   Ben Murray was quite affable, an` once he whispered me
   There`s a certain somethin` doin`, an` he`ll see me privately.

I was workin` at the rip saw, cursin` at my achin` back,
When I saw the blessed vision comin` down the log-year track.
   There were others in the party, but the one that got my stare
   Was her with two brown, laughin` eyes an` sunlight in her hair.

"More visitors!" growled old man Pike.  "Another city push.
I`ll bet a quid they ask us why we `spoil the lovely bush."
   I hardly heard him saying it, for like a fool I stand,
   My eyes full of the vision an` a batten in my hand.

"You gone to sleep?" the sawyer said.  "What`s got you mesmerized?"
I start to work like fury, but my thoughts can`t be disguised.
   "Oh, Jim`s gone dippy with the Spring"; replies old Pike an` grins.
   I turn to answer dignified; but trip, an` bark my shins.

Next thing I know the boss is there, an` talkin` fine an` good.
Explaining` to the visitors how trees are made of wood.
   They murmur things like "Marvellous!" an` "What a monster tree!"
   An` then the one with sunlit hair comes right bang up to me.

"I saw you fall," she sort of sung: you couldn`t say she talked,
For her voice had springtime in it, like the way she looked an` walked.
   "I saw you fall," she sung at me.  "I hope you were not hurt."
   An` suddenly I was aware I wore my oldest shirt.

"It never hurt me half as much as your two smilin` eyes."
That`s how I could have answered her - and watched old Pike`s surprise -
   "It never harmed me half as much as standin` here like this
   With tattered shirt an` grimy hands" . . . But I just says, "No, Miss."

"Oh, no," I says.  "We`re pretty hard, an` have to take them cracks."
(But just to see her sudden smile, made me as soft as wax.)
   "You`re strong," she smiles.  I answers, "Oh, I`m pretty strong, all right."
   An` close behind I heard old Pike observin`, "Hear `im skite!"

That finished me.  I lost what little nerve I had, an` grew
Dead certain that I looked a fool, an` that she thought so, too.
   She talked some more; but I can`t tell what other things she said.
   I went all cold, except my ears, an` thye were burnin` red.

I only knew her eyes were soft, her voice was kind an` low.
I never spoke another word exceptin` "Yes" an` "No."
   I never felt a bigger chump in all my livin` days,
   Well knowin` I was gettin` worse at every word she says.

An` when she went off with the rest I stood there, lookin` sick.
Until I caught a chance remark of little Dirty Dick.
   "What price the widders now?" says he.  I answer fierce an` low:
   "Were you addressin` me?" I says; an` Dick was prompt with "No!"

I don`t know how I finished up; my thoughts were far from clear;
For, in between me an` the bench, that vision would appear.
   No other man chucke doff at me, but by their looks `twas plain
   I`d lost a bit of that respect it took a fight to gain.

An`, when the knock-off whistle blew, Ben Murray he came by,
An` says he`d like that private talk, but, "Pickle it," says I.
   "`Twill have to keep til later on."  He answers, "As you like."
   Soon after that I saw him talkin` earnest with old Pike.

If I`d been right, I might have known there`s somehting in the air
By the way the blokes were actin`; but a fat lot did I care.
   Swell visions an` the deadly pip was what was wrong with me.
   I slung a word to my old dog, an` we trudged home to tea.

An` after, in the same old way, we sits beside the fire,
To have a talk, my dog an` me, on fools an` vain desire.
   I tell him I`m a silly chump to thnk the things to do.
   An`, with a waggle of his tail, he says he thinks so too.

I tell him I suppose she`s rich, or so she seems to be;
Most likely some reel city swell - an` he don`t disagree.
   I says to him the chances are I`ll not see her no more.
   Then he gives me a funny look, an` curls up on the floor.

But I was slow to take the tip, an` went on talkin` rot
About injustice in the world, an` boiled up good an` hot.
   I spouts of wrongs of workin` men an` how our rulers fail.
   His eyes are shut, but he just seconds motions with his tail.

All beuaty`s only for the rich, all times, an` every way.
The toilers just take what is left, as I`ve heard Murray say
   When he`s bene talkin` to the boys about the workers` rights,
   An` spoutin` of equality, down at the huts, of nights.

I turned the social system inside-out for my old dog.
Tho` he don`t seem much entertained, but lies there like a log.
   I spoke of common people`s wrongs - especially of mine;
   But when I came to mention love I thought I heard him whine.

But I went on, an` said straight out that, tho` I seemed above
Such nonsense once, I`d changed a bit, an` I believed in love.
   I said love was a splendid thing! . . . Then, true as I am born,
   He rose, an` yawned, an` shut me up with one crook glance of scorn.

It`s bad enough to be a bloke without one reel close friend;
But when your dog gives you the bird it`s pretty near the end.
   Ashamed, I sneaked away to bunk; an` fell to dreamin` there
   Of a little brown-eyed vision with the sunlight in her hair.
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