ONLY A MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 9494, 25 April 1894, Page 3

ONLY A MAN FROM THE COUNTRY.

[FOUNDED ON A TRUE INCIDENT.] Mocked by the multitude, crushed in the crowd, Elbowed and jostled and jeered at aloud; Breed of a boor and dress of a dowd— Only a man from the country. Stain of the sun on the hair of his pate, Smack of the soil in Iris colour and weight, Trail of the plough in the slouch of his gait— Only a man from the country. City folk whisper the fact of his race, Laugh at the tan on his hands and his face, Growl at his clumsy and leisurely pace— "Plague take the man from the country." Born of the suburb and bred of the street, City folk smile at the sower of wheat; The shock on his crown and the clogs on his feet, Witness a man from the country. Look at the cut of his coat and vest! Street arabs point at his breeches in jest! Mode of his billycock shows him, confessed, Only a man from the country. Hark 1 there's a panic dividing the throng; City folk scatter, the weak and the strong, Runaway horses come plunging alongHard by the roan from the country. Horses are dragging the brougham of his grace; Still sits my lady in feathers and lace, Pale to the lips, spite the rouge on her face} Look at her, man from the country 1 Under the billycock eyes glisten bright; Dawns there a soul in the face of the wight] Air of a noble and mien of a knight Shine in the man from the country. City folk shout at the rush opportune, City folk envy the limbs of the loon, Praise e'en the nails in the solas of his shoon J Wonderful man from the country. Lo! from the dullard a hero outgrew, Heart of a man shone out tender and true, Stalwart of sinew and trusty of thew— Such is the man from the country. " How did he handle them! How did he stay l" Grieve o'er his grammar, ye purists, I pray 1 " Horses?' he lauehs. " Oh, I understand they I I am a man from the country." Back again then to his stroll thro' the town, Clothes still misfitting and features still brown, Speech of the vulgar and lounge of the clown, Pity the man from the country. Stare at him still as he goes on his way, Duty is fairer than beauty, I say. " Villain" is better than " villan" to-day, Thanks to the man from the country. City folk, great is your skill and your speed, Chaste is your culture and clever your creed; But for the pinch of the world in its need Give me a man from the country.