Les Murray: Two Poems

Boarding in Town for School

The trick was to be
asleep before the rail signalman
whispered in with his latest
girl off the midnight train

otherwise the murmurings
would go on and on
whatever the pair did—
At waking they’d be gone.

Those days when boys called you
names that rarely impressed
the girls, who danced, calling you
like Hinder and Posterio;

those days could be got through,
spit on prefects, eat downtown,
talk cadet rifles,
admire one or two.

Staying with your best friend
at his place. And his sister
coming in in worn bathers,
knocking bedframe with her broom,

a year older than you,
quiet touch in her face,
city ahead, and your lies
to dismiss her so undue.

                   Les Murray

Two Last Stanzas

1981
You rose dressing up
and you praised putting down
especially the cultures
of TV and bush town,
the white-booted chucker
and the wet-lipped seersucker
and the flowers were flung gladioli

2001
Fashion ruled, while the old Queen still reigned.
Some flickers of nonsense remained,
one last war, and none of ours killed—
Cuisine grew less shamed and more skilled,
Entertainment grew more forms of media,
some dearer, some seedier
yet the flowers were Olympic gold roses.
                                               Les Murray