The world in gloom and splendour passes by,
And thou in the midst of it with brows that gleam,
A creature of that old distorted dream
That makes the sound of life an evil cry.
Good men perform just deeds, and brave men die,
And win not honour such as gold can give,
While the vain multitudes plod on, and live,
And serve the curse that pins them down: But I
Think only of the unnumbered broken hearts,
The hunger and the mortal strife for bread,
Old age and youth alike mistaught, misfed,
By want and rags and homelessness made vile,
The griefs and hates, and all the meaner parts
That balance thy one grim misgotten pile.
By Archibald Lampman
This little wallaroo joey is growing up quickly. He is still following his mom around, and is in and out of the pouch a fair bit when he gets tired.
All the bouncing around is good practice, but he is still very uncoordinated and needs some help and guidance. He is very fit and healthy and will grow up into a fine adult. Judging by the size of his feet, he will be a great jumper when he is older.
At the moment it feels like we are in the middle of winter, and this little roo is definitely dressed for the occasion. All that fluff will help keep him warm, and he also has his mom to keep him safe.