America vs Australia in Poems

America The Beautiful - Poem by Katharine Lee Bates

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine,
Till all success be nobleness,
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

Katharine Lee Bates

 

My Country - Poem by Dorothea Mackeller

The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze ...

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

**

Dorothea Mackeller

Why Australia will never be America

 

The #guncontrol cabal run a fear campaign that any review of Aus Gun Laws will lead to US style gun culture.

But this is a terrible insult to Australia .

 

We will never be "merica"

Our National Myths & Psyche are poles apart.

- we sing of camping by a billabong & suicide not "conquer we must, when our cause it is just"

-We tell of the defeat at Eureka Stockade not Victory at Lexington & Concord

-our most famous explorers where the incompetent Burke & Wills not the success of Lewis & Clarke

- we commemorate & remebr the wasteful bloody sacrifice and defeat at Gallipoli in Anzac Day not Celebrate the Glorious victory through blood sacrifice on Independence Day.

- We came like a lap dog to two wars in Europe when our masters called. We did not tell tales of how we waded into an European war and rescued the world.

-We don't crow about victory in the Pacific, we talk of the close call at Kokoda despite being abandoned by Britain.

As Patton Says America Loves a winner.

Aussies Love our Sun burnt Country and the only martial sound we long for is the drumming of the steady soaking rain.

To see the difference for yourself I recommend starting by read compare and contrast "America.the Beautiful" by Katherine Lee Bate and "My Country" by Dorothea Mackeller

To Henry Halloran - Poem by Henry Kendall

YOU KNOW I left my forest home full loth,
And those weird ways I knew so well and long,
Dishevelled with their sloping sidelong growth
Of twisted thorn and kurrajong.

It seems to me, my friend (and this wild thought
Of all wild thoughts, doth chiefly make me bleed),
That in those hills and valleys wonder-fraught,
I loved and lost a noble creed.

A splendid creed! But let me even turn
And hide myself from what I’ve seen, and try
To fathom certain truths you know, and learn
The Beauty shining in your sky:


Remembering you in ardent autumn nights,
And Stenhouse near you, like a fine stray guest
Of other days, with all his lore of lights
So manifold and manifest!

Then hold me firm. I cannot choose but long
For that which lies and burns beyond my reach,
Suggested in your steadfast, subtle song
And his most marvellous speech!

For now my soul goes drifting back again,
Ay, drifting, drifting, like the silent snow
While scattered sheddings, in a fall of rain,
Revive the dear lost Long Ago!

The time I, loitering by untrodden fens,
Intent upon low-hanging lustrous skies,
Heard mellowed psalms from sounding southern glens—
Euroma, dear to dreaming eyes!

And caught seductive tokens of a voice
Half maddened with the dim, delirious themes
Of perfect Love, and the immortal choice
Of starry faces—Astral dreams!

That last was yours! And if you sometimes find
An alien darkness on the front of things,
Sing none the less for Life, nor fall behind,
Like me, with trailing, tired wings!

Yea, though the heavy Earth wears sackcloth now
Because she hath the great prophetic grief
Which makes me set my face one way, and bow
And falter for a far belief,

Be faithful yet for all, my brave bright peer,
In that rare light you hold so true and good;
And find me something clearer than the clear
White spaces of Infinitude.

Henry Kendall

Sunrise on the Hills by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,
They gathered midway round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown.
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance.
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below
Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow
Was darkened by the forest's shade,
Or glistened in the white cascade;
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.

  I heard the distant waters dash,
I saw the current whirl and flash,
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,
The woods were bending with a silent reach.
Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,
The music of the village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.

  If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills!  No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.






Photo: Gary P Hayes

---

The Call of the Bushland by Stella P Bell

From the softly sighing forests,
Across the blazing desert sand,
The call of the bushland is reaching,
With eager, beckoning hands.

It is there in every movement
Of the swaying, snow-tipped trees,
In the air it's the music of the birds,
That floats on each tiny breeze.

From the sky it reaches downward,
The sound is felt much more than heard,
From those who wing on southward,
A flight of graceful birds.

It reaches out from a darkened sky,
Through the softest moonlit glow,
On a land that hushed and sleeping,
Beneath a mantle of whitest snow.

Its heart is in the heart of nature,
And her gentle, tender hands,
It pulls at the soul and being,
And it ties with loving strands.

It's the essence and the heart beat
Of each living, breathing thing,
For there's magic and there's longing
In the constant song it sings.

In the silence it's a knowledge
And its tendrils wrap the heart
With a longing to return there,
Though many miles may part.

The call is ever present,
Though it is often pushed away,
Just a sound or a scent can revive it,
And it's back again to stay.

From the bush to the busy city,
On the breeze there may be a perfume
That entwines every heart that knows it,
And fills every empty room.

It works once again its magic,
With a longing for one to be
Where this call alone has its birth place,
In the bush where life is free

Stella P. Bell

The Last of His Tribe - Henry Kendall

He crouches, and buries his face on his knees,
And hides in the dark of his hair;
For he cannot look up to the storm-smitten trees,
Or think of the loneliness there -
Of the loss and the loneliness there.

The wallaroos grope through the tufts of the grass,
And turn to their coverts for fear;
But he sits in the ashes and lets them pass
Where the boomerangs sleep with the spear -
With the nullah, the sling and the spear.

Uloola, behold him! The thunder that breaks
On the tops of the rocks with the rain,
And the wind which drives up with the salt of the lakes,
Have made him a hunter again -
A hunter and fisher again.

For his eyes have been full with a smouldering thought;
But he dreams of the hunts of yore,
And of foes that he sought, and of fights that he fought
With those who will battle no more -
Who will go to the battle no more.

It is well that the water which tumbles and fills
Goes moaning and moaning along;
For an echo rolls out from the sides of the hills,
And he starts at a wonderful song -
At the sound of a wonderful song.

And he sees through the rents of the scattering fogs
The corroboree warlike and grim,
And the lubra who sat by the fire on the logs,
To watch, like a mourner, for him -
Like a mother and mourner for him.

Will he go in his sleep from these desolate lands,
Like a chief, to the rest of his race,
With the honey-voiced woman who beckons and stands,
And gleams like a dream in his face -
Like a marvellous dream in his face?

Henry Kendall

Every Man should have a rifle (Henry Lawson)

So I sit and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions “over yonder” of the war I know must come.

In the corner – not a vision – but a sign for coming days Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize.

And in this, the living present, let the word go through the land, Every tradesman, clerk and peasant should have these two things at hand.

No – no ranting song is needed, and no meeting, flag or fuss - In the future, still unheeded, shall the spirit come to us!

Without feathers, drum or riot on the day that is to be, We shall march down, very quiet, to our stations by the sea.

While the bitter parties stifle every voice that warns of war, Every man should own a rifle and have cartridges in store!

~ by Henry Lawson, 1907 ~

A Social Media Fast

Good Morning

Today I have started a Social Media Fast

There is no emergency, no health crisis, just a feeling that I need to withdraw from the social media space for a time and reconnect with the things I really love.

I

The Call Of The Bush

Three roads there are that climb and wind
Amongst the hills, and leave behind
The patterned orchards, sloping down
To meet a little country town.

And of these roads I'll take the one
That tops the ridges, where the sun
Is tempered by the mountain-breeze
And dancing shadows of the trees.

The road is rough - but to my feet
Softer than is the city street;
And then the trees! - how beautiful
She-oak and gum - how fresh and cool!

No walls there are to hamper me;
Only in blue infinity
The distant mountain-ramparts rise
Beneath the broad arch of the skies.

And in that high place I shall hear
The wild birds' singing, soft and clear;
And horse-bells tinkling as of old
In amongst the wattles' gold

Far-off is the ocean tide;
But there across the country-side
Roll waves of bush that rise and fall
To break against the mountain-wall.

And every little farm is seen
An island in a sea of green;
And every little farm at night
Flings through the dark its beacon-light -

There in the silence of the hills,
I shall find peace that soothes and stills
The throbbing of the weary brain, -
For I am going home again.

Dora Wilcox

 

My Lee-Enfield and Why you should get non shooters out for range day.

I have very recently acquired a Lee Enfield Rifle  like the one below, and it has proved to be of interest to a much wider circle of friends than just my fellow firearms enthusiasts.


If you are desperate enough to follow my twitter account ramblings you will have seen that I tweeted about a couple of folks who wanted to have a look at a real Lee Enfield. Well Sunday afternoon we did a bit of show an tell.

The folks came round for a cuppa and a look at this historic rifle. Their interest was purely historical, grandfathers and fathers had carried one during WWI and WWII and this was a chance to make a physical connection with that personal family history.

The rifle I have was built in 1908 and from the markings had the stock replaced in 1942.
So it is not much of a stretch to suggest that it might have been held by two generations of soldiers.

Anyway, after a everyone had a good look at the rifle I asked if they would like to see how you load the magazine.  I removed the bolt and made it clear that the rifle was now unable to fire and so the loading of the magazine would not present any danger and then grabbed a couple of 5 round charging clips.

The first clip loaded easily, but I admit the second required a little more practice on my part.

"So there you go, your 10 rounds are loaded which gave you 2 more rounds than the guys shooting at you"

Then came the q&a  I was not expecting:

Q: 10 rounds?  is that legal?

A: yes I have 10 round mags for all my rifles.

Q: So how many did that adler thing hold

A: 7

Q: So what is all the fuss about a 7 rounds if 10 round magazines are legal?

 A; that is what hunters have been saying....

This was a great example of how the general public with no other information than the press can be so confused about why we (sporting shooters and hunters) have been making such a fuss about 5 or  7 rounds.

In the course of a quick look at a historical artifact over a cuppa I was able to demonstrate safe handling, safe storage and answer a few questions which delivered a small antidote to media hype and misinformation.

Activists who want to ban something, seem to very capable of getting the press to publish a one sided view. I wonder if it is because the media writers are as clueless as my non shooting friends?

It is important to remind myself that I know as little about my friends wood turning and fly fishing pastimes as they know about my target shooting and hunting.

I think that the Greens and Gun Control Zealots (that want more restrictions and more bans) who push to prevent Shot Show, Hunt Fest and any sort of access to "try shooting" know that a little first had experience is deadly to the agenda.

As much as I want to yell and scream about the injustice of media ignorance and the stupidity of the laws as they stand and the lies that are being pumped out by opponents of hunting and shooting it seems that the quiet conversations over a coffee actually achieves more.

Well that's how things seem to have worked for me......

20 Years on the Road Toll is where it would have been if we did nothing.......

An unlicensed driver in unregistered car causes of large number of fatalities in a road rage incident.

Some how, despite regular and frequent police efforts to stop this sort of thing, this time it is on a scale never seen in Australia before.

The Government responds almost instantly, as if they had the solution pre packed ready to go:

To prevent future events like this they pass laws that mean licenced insured drivers of registered motor vehicles :

• are now subject to additional speed restrictions.
• vehicles will be subject to restriction on engine, fuel and passenger capacity that are even tighter than current requirements
• purchase of first and subsequent cars will require an appropriate approval from the licensing branch.
• Driving record, current number and type of vehicles, insurance claim history etc will be considered prior to approval
• owners will now be subject to regular police inspection of their homes and business to ensure that vehicles are stored securely in accordance with regulations (as interpreted by the inspecting officer regardless of that officers familiarity with the regulations or motor vehicles in general)
• New penalties & immediate suspension of license will be in place for drivers who have their vehicles stolen or commit some other breach of any number of laws and regulations that may or may not be relevant to driving history.

The Driving Public are up in Arms:

"Now see here that seems the wrong end of the stick!" they decry
"I ve done nothing wrong."
"Why  why am I being forced to submit to more laws, when the actions of the reckless driver already broke the existing?"

The NRMA come out in favor of the new rules as it required compulsory membership of a motoring association as a condition of being issued a licence.

You as the motorist speak out about this outrageous situation.

The response:

 DO YOU Know anyone who as been injured in a motor vehicle accident?
Well you do now so suck it up.

But wait

NOW 20yrs on - we find that Accidents caused by unlicensed drivers with unregistered cars have not diminished.

The news every second day has stories of some drug gang or other defy the laws about illegal drugs and unlicensed driving. We read of caches of cars being found, of cars illegally imported  through Australia Post, the price of unregistered cars apparently at historic lows due to a glut in supply.

We find that 20 years latter the laws did not save anyone.

We find that 20 years on our neighbor across the ditch & cousins on the other side of the  Pacific did panic and implement the same level of "driver safety laws" we swallowed.
We learn that they have seen the same trend in accidents as we did.
We learn that vastly different solutions, that did not require us to let the government steal our property have had the same results as our draconian  solutions.


So we ask if it might be possible to move toward the laws in NZ or Canada that have proven successful,

We are met with vitriol and loathing as if we had tried to take the "precious" from gollum,  the gnashing of teeth and the wailing and screeching begins as they seek to silence us and distract the public transport crowd from the facts.......


Asking a #GunControl #Australia serf to debate the facts around Howard Gun Laws:

SBS:

http://www.sbs.com.au/news/insight/article/2016/03/30/port-arthur-survivor-confronts-pro-gun-fishers-and-shooters-politician