South Of My Days Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGC HFIJCKA CLMNOLPQR SAGFTUV WXYZCLFAA2| South of my days' circle part of my blood's country | A |
| rises that tableland high delicate outline | B |
| of bony slopes wincing under the winter | C |
| low trees blue leaved and olive outcropping granite | D |
| clean lean hungry country The creek's leaf silenced | E |
| willow choked the slope a tangle of medlar and crabapple | F |
| branching over and under blotched with a green lichen | G |
| and the old cottage lurches in for shelter | C |
| - | |
| O cold the black frost night The walls draw in to the warmth | H |
| and the old roof cracks its joints the slung kettle | F |
| hisses a leak on the fire Hardly to be believed that summer will turn up again some day in a wave of rambler roses | I |
| thrust it's hot face in here to tell another yarn | J |
| a story old Dan can spin into a blanket against the winter | C |
| Seventy years of stories he clutches round his bones | K |
| Seventy years are hived in him like old honey | A |
| - | |
| Droving that year Charleville to the Hunter | C |
| nineteen one it was and the drought beginning | L |
| sixty head left at the McIntyre the mud round them | M |
| hardened like iron and the yellow boy died | N |
| in the sulky ahead with the gear but the horse went on | O |
| stopped at Sandy Camp and waited in the evening | L |
| It was the flies we seen first swarming like bees | P |
| Came to the Hunter three hundred head of a thousand | Q |
| cruel to keep them alive and the river was dust | R |
| - | |
| Or mustering up in the Bogongs in the autumn | S |
| when the blizzards came early Brought them down we | A |
| brought them down what aren't there yet Or driving for Cobb's on the run | G |
| up from Tamworth Thunderbolt at the top of Hungry Hill | F |
| and I give him a wink I wouldn't wait long Fred | T |
| not if I was you The troopers are just behind | U |
| coming for that job at the Hillgrove He went like a luny him on his big black horse | V |
| - | |
| Oh they slide and they vanish | W |
| as he shuffles the years like a pack of conjuror's cards | X |
| True or not it's all the same and the frost on the roof | Y |
| cracks like a whip and the back log break into ash | Z |
| Wake old man This is winter and the yarns are over | C |
| No one is listening | L |
| South of my days' circle | F |
| I know it dark against the stars the high lean country | A |
| full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep | A2 |
Judith Wright
(1)
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