Colin F. Jones

FRAGMENTS FROM UNCERTAIN DAYS

Ah! That I sit here alone.
What thoughts I think, so thoughtlessly,
for I seldom think of home,
and yet, what pleasant thoughts,
now that I think have grown.

My home
My humble dwelling, my castle,
My heaven to spare me evil
My place of rest from bitterness
My home. My love. My solitude!

My Home; within it hearts and souls
Where pride breeds from loyalty,
Where sadness sheds a merry tear,
Among friends. The purest of pure friends.
My shelter; my refuge from the night,
My tower, carved from Gods own soul,
My place of peace; of comfort…
God, thank you for my home.
But home is far away,
where no cities pierce the sky
to mar the peaceful day,
where there, the forests lie…

ah once more for the places of bush
where I spent much happier days
where the jackass blends with the dead old gum
and laughs as the wallaby plays
Ah! Give me a whip and some stock to drive
a faithful old horse beneath my seat
and I’ll ride this land that has taken my soul
and sown it in the soil like wheat.
Ah! For the days of the droughts and the heat,
and the winters that never grow cold
for the horse and the dog are mans best friends
where the land is challenge for the bold.
Ah, for the freedom, the loneliness too
in the silent and vast spreading bush,
where a job is a joy and there is always a change
unlike the great cities of rush.
Give me the meadows, the rolling brown hills,
where the rivers and creeks are dry,
where the mountains are tall and high in the blue
the eagles go gliding by.
Give me a homestead faded and blown,
from the dust of the station plain,
with an easterly window facing the sun
that rises above the terrain.
Give me the bush the vast open land,
that stretches from mountain to sea,
for somewhere out there the land that I love,
must hold something better for me.

I remember my last visit.
Ah! How joyous could it be…
for just a little while,
my soul and I were free… but,
well goodbye now, its time to go,
I’ve had a happy time,
It’s just a pity that I can’t stay,
but my work is down the line.
Goodbye Mum, Dad and kids,
I’ll see you again next year
until then, goodbye, goodbye,
good health, good luck, good cheer.

Mmmm… and sadness felt lies silent,
for parting is no real joy,
though the smiles drown all sorrow,
and these goodbyes delight a boy.

Drips dew drops from a silent sky,
to glitter where my footprints lie
swings the wind from north to south,
stirs the leaves on sagging bough,
as gently, gently turns the moon,
to watch this life’s blossoms swoon
Glints the white of the wise owls eye
as shrunken now the flowers sigh,
Deeper in the darker shade,
the lonely wait for the light to fade.
Turns from her lover’s face
to speak of stars and the heavenly place
as softly, softly now the night
seeks to hide each speck of light…..

Mother… now I think of you,
and you my Father too,
for I cannot think of kinder thoughts
than these that think of you.

While the fire light glows in shadows
to caress the silent walls
the dim lit room is quiet
as the evening slowly falls.
There are faces in the shadows
that show the strains of life
faces tired and gentle
those of this man and wife
perhaps this eve of Christmas
has born an inner glow
for there in those eyes of wisdom
there glints a joyous flow.

Still yet the room is silent
but a silence that is gold
for in the stillness of the shadows
the joys of life unfold
there dwells contented gladness
relaxation beside the hearth
with forgotten woes and sadness,
turning to the joyful path.
In a silent room, by a dancing fire,
mother and father shall stay
a perfect picture in my mind
on this a Christmas day.

CHRISTMAS!! Ah! Not as it were,
for it belongs to children
and I a man should think no thoughts
if they belong to children…. but yet,
Slips by the moon in phantom light
as turns life’s wheel in silent sight
as tunes the lyre in joyous key
to bring happiness to you and me
creeps in the day; a new born day
a blaze of sun across the way
a farmer rests from plough and field
a soldier turns to hand his shield.
The eyes of Mothers turn to pearls
the children laugh and flex their curls
toil is done and thankful rest
comes to all in every nest
the trees are green and seem to smile
the owl flies home to sleep awhile
the belfries of the golden day
toll for joy in every way.
I smile for I am not alone
here in the towers of a home
where music plays for something more
than days the same and padlocked door
sorrows not a soul today
nor rocky is the winding way
men are free and lies no cost
for what is won, for what is lost…
even s the worlds eye turns
and sunshine browns the scattered ferns
we wake up in a different way,
to welcome joy on Christmas day.

Christmas in the country,
a strange Christmas it is too
without the white and icy lakes
but its meaning is still true
then come the newer months
as the year is at its end
with fresher winds and brighter stars
new highways yet to wend…

Once more a year has passed
once more the cloud veiled sky
brings forth one like the last
until it also passes that one by
and as the years come and go
and we all grow a little old
another year comes in the flow
and its steady months unfold.
So let us hold our heads up high,
and be happy every year,
and look ahead with a merry eye
and render ourselves in cheer.