Rupert Atkinson

Melbourne Sonnets. 8. The Stock Exchange

THROUGH the stench and smoke of pipe and stale cigar —
Black coats, black hats, and raucous tones, bleared eyes.
Quick, past them — hold your breath! Yet in this guise
Here throbs the nation's heart! Iron, coal, and tar,
Goldfields, farms, foundries, and all earth at par.
Pour forth their wealth, like blood, to vitalise
These very walls, these very men, their lies,
Their houses, parks, and cities, near and far.

To-day the world's romance is centred here.
This is the nation's heart — its arteries
Flood from this spot, and turn and twist and veer.
Here sluggish prudes and leech-like rakes, at ease.
Sap the land's life with schemes effete, austere —
As sure and tardy as their own disease.