[Editor: This poem by “Dryblower” Murphy was published in Dryblower’s Verses (1926).]
Hushed are the raving, choking cries,
The dying groans.
A something stark and staring lies
Among the stones.
The carrion crow full-gutted flies
From clean-picked bones.
A trim-built cottage o’er the Bight,
An empty chair,
A woman weeping in the night
In lone despair
Sobbing to sleep a chubby mite —
His eyes; his hair.
Bitter the tears that well and flow
Where Death holds sway.
Heavy the hearts that come and go
Near coffined clay.
But life-long their grief who may not know
The yea or nay.
Edwin Greenslade Murphy, Dryblower’s Verses, Perth, W.A.: E. G. Murphy, 1926, page 52
Bight = the Great Australian Bight, a large bight on the southern coastline of the Australian continent (a bight is a bend, curve, or recess in a coast which forms an open bay)
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