ED of station, noise alone, The crow's voice trembles down the sky As if this nitrous flange of stone Wept suddenly with such a cry; As if the rock found lips to sigh, The riven earth a mouth to moan; But we that hear them, stumbling by, Confuse their torments with our own. Over the huge abraded rind, Crow-countries graped with dung, we go, Past gullies that no longer flow And wells that nobody can find, Lashed by the screaming of the crow, Stabbed by the needles of the mind.
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Kenneth Slessor
Kenneth Adolphe Slessor OBE (27 March 1901 – 30 June 1971) was an Australian poet, journalist and official war correspondent in World War II. He…
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