And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me as they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste
And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy, like to take a turn at the droving where the seasons come and go, while he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal -- but I doubt he'd suit the office. Clancy, of "The Overflow"
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing
The bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him in the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars
I am sitting in my dingy little office, Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall, and the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all
The language uninviting of the gutter children fighting, comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet