Here you will find the Poem Rod Quinn of poet John Le Gay Brereton
How many years, how many years have fled, Since in the cool dim parlour sat the three Lawson and I and, lounging easily, The beaming indolent poet! Then instead Of labouring weary at the mill, we led The careless life of wanderers, frank and free, And had the wealth of a new-found world in fee: How pitiless time gropes on with tireless tread! A glass was raised, and golden liquor glowed When a ray from summer streets came piercing in; He drank the sunlight in the gloomy place! And now I know the magic drink bestowed A vital golden splendour on Roderic Quinn, Which fumbling fingers of Time will scarce efface
