By his paths through the parched desolation,
Hot rides and the terrible tramps;
By the hunger, the thirst, the privation
Of his work in the further most camps.
By his worth in the light that shall search men
And prove - ay! And justify each -
I place him in front of all churchmen
Who feel not, who know not - but preach!
His Brother-s Keeper
Henry Lawson
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Poem topics: feel, light, work, place, hunger, terrible, prove, worth, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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