Henry Lawson

Here you will find the Poem Jack Robertson of poet Henry Lawson

Jack Robertson

How oft in public meetings past,
Where sense was not and talk was loud,
We caught a glimpse of long white hair
Upon the outskirts of the crowd;
And then the tide of talk ebbed back,
While here and there above the din,
A workman cried, ?Here?s old Sir Jack,?
And made a path to let him in.

Now Peter sitting at the gate,
While crowds of souls are waiting there,
Perchance upon the outer fringe
May catch a glimpse of silvery hair;
While some rough soul who went from here
To that great meeting in the blue
Will cry aloud, ?Here?s old Sir Jack,?
And make a path to let him through.