Editor’s Note: Lynton Convict Hiring Depot (1853–1857) is one of Western Australia’s many fascinating ghost towns. This evocative poem Lynton Ruins by S.M. Wild, is accompanied by sketches by Gerald K. Wild. We are delighted to share their work and extend our thanks to K.E. Allia for generously granting permission to publish it.
The limestone hills are greenly gowned
Though tamarisks sigh, no other sound
Disturbs the silence there.
And dappled sunlight’s soft caress,
It seems to me, has come to bless,
Three mounds bleak and bare.
Here, no words tell of fame or glory,
Time has erased their little story,
Has left them lying alone.
But fretting ruins nearby stand,
Hollow eyed upon the land,
Mid heaps of crumbled stone.
And they all speak of endless sorrow,
Loneliness, hope for tomorrow,
For those who toiled out there;
And those whose fate it was to be
Outcasts of humanity,
Knowing darkness and despair.
Could they but hear me, I would say,
“Take heart, take heart, for see, today,
All was not in vain.
You were our link in destiny,
Creating new lives such as we,
In us you live again.
And brick by brick and stone by stone,
We will make your efforts known
As we build anew.
So generations yet to be
Will come and visit, just to see,
And to remember you.”
