Country towns, with your willows and squares, br And farmers bouncing on barrel mares br To public houses of yellow wood br With '1860' over their doors, br And that mysterious race of Hogans br Which always keeps the General Stores…. br br At the School of Arts, a broadsheet lies br Sprayed with the sarcasm of flies: br 'The Great Golightly Family br Of Entertainers Here To-night'– br Dated a year and a half ago, br But left there, less from carelessness br Than from a wish to seem polite. br br Verandas baked with musky sleep, br Mulberry faces dozing deep, br And dogs that lick the sunlight up br Like paste of gold – or, roused in vain br By far, mysterious buggy-wheels, br Lower their ears, and drowse again….