The Spike or Victoria College Review October 1930

The Tramper

The Tramper

There's a joy beyond describing in the calling of a tramper
Swinging 'cross the valleys with a long low stride,
Splashing up the rivers, pushing through the brushioood,
Sleeping 'neath the splendour of the moon's full tide.

There's the joy of going onward,β€”on and up, and never stopping
Till the land is far below you and the city far away;
Till you've conquered stream and river, plain and bushland, range and mountain,β€”
Tramping till the weary, happy closing of the day.

There's the joy of bold endeavour, and perhaps the thrill of conquest,
And sights of wondrous beauty, and water's laughing song;
Till one grows to love earth's humours in every sort of weather,
And she takes you to her bosom, and you feel that you belong.

β€” Cid.