Hi, sorry to bother you but I have the statement - "Poets are preocupied with writting about typical australian landscapes- discuss" as my essay queston. I have chosen to do the poems: The Daylight is Dying and The man from Ironbark, both by "Banjo" Paterson. My teacher said that lanscape refered not only refered to physical things, but also cultural and historical. I was wondering if anyone could tell me what there veiw of the question is, whether they agree or disagree and why (to any poems if you like), so that I can get a greater understanding of how to go about my essay. I would be extremely gratefull for any input. Thanks.

The daylight is dying
Away in the west,
The wild birds are flying
In silence to rest;
In leafage and frondage
Where shadows are deep,
They pass to their bondage --
The kingdom of sleep.
And watched in their sleeping
By stars in the height,
They rest in your keeping,
Oh, wonderful night.

When night doth her glories
Of starshine unfold,
'Tis then that the stories
Of bushland are told.
Unnumbered I hold them
In memories bright,
But who could unfold them,
Or read them aright?

Beyond all denials
The stars in their glories
The breeze in the myalls
Are part of these stories.
The waving of grasses,
The song of the river
That sings as it passes
For ever and ever,
The hobble-chains' rattle,
The calling of birds,
The lowing of cattle
Must blend with the words.
Without these, indeed, you
Would find it ere long,
As though I should read you
The words of a song
That lamely would linger
When lacking the rune,
The voice of the singer,
The lilt of the tune.

But, as one half-hearing
An old-time refrain,
With memory clearing,
Recalls it again,
These tales, roughly wrought of
The bush and its ways,
May call back a thought of
The wandering days.
And, blending with each
In the mem'ries that throng,
There haply shall reach
You some echo of song.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.
He loitered here, he loitered there, till he was like to drop,
Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's shop.
"Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of mark,
I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark."

The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly are,
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash, he smoked a huge cigar;
He was a humorist of note and keen at repartee,
He laid the odds and kept a "tote", whatever that may be,
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered, "Here's a lark!
Just watch me catch him all alive, this man from Ironbark."

There were some gilded youths that sat along the barber's wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all;
To them the barber passed the wink, his dexter eyelid shut,
"I'll make this bloomin' yokel think his bloomin' throat is cut."
And as he soaped and rubbed it in he made a rude remark:
"I s'pose the flats is pretty green up there in Ironbark."

A grunt was all the reply he got; he shaved the bushman's chin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the razor in.
He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim's throat;
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark --
No doubt it fairly took him in -- the man from Ironbark.

He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the murd'rous foe:
"You've done for me! you dog, I'm beat! one hit before I go!
I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
But you'll remember all your life the man from Ironbark."

He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber's jaw, and knocked the barber out.
He set to work with nail and tooth, he made the place a wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital spark,
And "Murder! Bloody murder!" yelled the man from Ironbark.

A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said "'Twas all in fun --
'Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone."
"A joke!" he cried, "By George, that's fine; a lively sort of lark;
I'd like to catch that murdering swine some night in Ironbark."

And now while round the shearing floor the list'ning shearers gape,
He tells the story o'er and o'er, and brags of his escape.
"Them barber chaps what keeps a tote, By George, I've had enough,
One tried to cut my bloomin' throat, but thank the Lord it's tough."
And whether he's believed or no, there's one thing to remark,
That flowing beards are all the go way up in Ironbark.

I'm not sure the bloke getting his throat cut as a practical joke has much to do with landscapes, Miss P. Are you locked in on this one?

I can only assume that your essay topic refers to Australian poets, and specifically to those writing in the 'bush ballad' era of the late nineteenth century, otherwise it's an absurd statement. Is it a quote from a historical introduction to some anthology? As a generalisation in that narrow context it may be arguable, but you don't have to agree with it, and you could argue against by, or at least expose it as subject to exceptions, by citing popular examples that don't relate to landscape. Maybe that's why you have picked The Man From Ironbark. Are you limited to citing just two poems as evidence, and if so, is it a good idea to take both from the same poet, when the topic refers to 'poets'?

As a Brit, I find a lot of "cultural landscape" in The man from Ironbark. The contrast between city and country ways are different from Britain. Your bloke is less of a bumpkin than his English equivalent.