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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,—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,—
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.

Cid.