#AustralianWriters
Now, I think there is a likeness… For he did a lot of trampin’ long… He was 'union’ when the workers fi… And I’m glad that old St Peter k… When the ancient agitator and his…
'Where are you going with your hor… And the townsfolk still at rest? Where are you going, with your swa… And the night still in the West? Your clothes are worn, and your ch…
THE Separated Women Go lying through the land, For they have plenty dresses, And money, too, in hand; They married brutes and drunkards
The night came down thro’ Deadman… Where the ghostly saplings bent Before a wind that tore the fly From many a digger’s tent. Dark as pitch, and the rain rushed…
These are songs of the Friends I… And the Foes, too, in part; These are songs that were mostly r… And songs from my heart. Yours truly,
The crescent moon and clock tower… Across the smothered lanes of 'Lo… And in the shadow yonder—like cats… The crowding cabs seem waiting—for… The cab lamps are watching as they…
It is stuffy in the steerage where… For there’s near a hundred for’ard… They are trav’lers for the most pa… But their linen’s rather scanty, a… Stowed away like ewes and wethers…
Down here where the ships loom lar… The gloom when the sea-storms veer… Down here on the south-west margin Of the western hemisphere, Where the might of a world-wide oc…
Dust, dust, dust and a dog— Oh! The sheep-dog won’t be last. When the long, long, shadow of the… With the shadow of his mate is cas… A brick-brown woman with the brick…
If they missed my face in Farmers… When the landlord lit the lamp, They would grin and say in their c… 'Oh! he’s down at the Gipsy camp!… But they’d read of things in the…
’Tis sunrise over Watson, Where I sailed out to sea, On that wild run to London That wrecked and ruined me. The beauty of the morning
I would never waste the hours Of the time that is mine own, Writing verses about flowers For their own sweet sakes alone; Gushing as a schoolgirl gushes
We have lived till these times, br… We who lived in this; We have not grown old together, Soon our lives must close— Rewi’s first! For I am dying
It is New Year’s Day and I rise… The Bards have commenced to fill… They’re patting their binjies with… That a binjied bard is a bard inde… Old chaps,
With our boundaries swung to the c… And the six-starred flag of our de… God grant from Greed or the dust… From all save our blood, if we mus… We yield no praise and we speak no…