Thomas Henry Kendall

“ The warrigal flies from the shepherd's cries,
⁠And the clamour of dogs and sheep.
He roves through the lands of sultry sands,
⁠He hunts in the iron range,
Untamed as surge of the far sea verge,
⁠And fierce and fickle and strange.
The white man's track and the haunts of the black
⁠He shuns, and shudders to see;
For his joy he tastes in lonely wastes
⁠Where his mates are torrent and tree. ”