Sometimes I risk a faltering step To meet these –steins, both Ein–… But hesitate and halt at last, Finding the works of each too vast For such a finite brain as mine.

You are growing convalescent As pain’s fingers are withdrawn; And you waken in a strange, white… Yet your thought is aught but plea… In the cold, grey winter dawn,

What crass, abysmal ignorance! F… Despite his looks, the man must be… They gasped for air; they gazed on… And tried to think of epithets tha… Clown! Dolt! Unlettered oaf!…

Mr Blades, the butcher, was a lar… ‘Best him at a cattle deal,’ ’twas… He ate a lot and drank a lot and h… And he jollied all the ladies in h… His family was numerous, and helpe…

Three hills lead on to Lilydale, Where runs the White Horse Road. Three slopes dip down into the val… The placid vale of Lilydale, That somnolent abode

‘Outgoing: the Ooonah for Burnie’… How often the radio spoke; Till the stout little ship and her… Grew into a mild sort of joke. But no longer her donkeyman grappl…

I worked for fifty hours a week, And someone said to me, ‘Don’t be a serf! Throw off your… And show the world you’re free!’ So I cut down my working hours

The dawnin’ of prosperity Recalls (said old George Jones) When I was young, a song we sung, In none too sober tones, When easy, breezy days were here,

Here, in soft darkness where the w… Dreamless, my quiet garden slumber… Night’s soothing fingers all adrip… Crept in and out, weaving a mystic… O’er wilting bud and bell;

She never nagged; she never said n… But sat an’ looked at me an’ never… I could 'a’ bluffed it out if she… Fair narked, an’ let me ‘ave it wi… It silence told me ‘ow ’er ‘eart w…

Child of a myriad varied voices ca… O’er countless leagues of space in… Tho’ captious critics view your wa… And fain would quiet your all too… Raw youth must have its fling; and…

Now, Plugger Palook was a man in… (Said Horace the Howler) not one… But his barrackers vowed that he w… Full scope for his talents account… For Plugger Palook was a football…

We’d harbored them on hovels, and… Altho’ in price they counted less… Had they not still the right, that… To strive and in a place in life’s… Had they not still the gift of Go…

A word out of season Of vapid unreason May seem mere political twaddle at… But this thing needs abatement If, with each wild statement

Once upon a recent even, as I lay… Weaving dreams and seeing visions… Suddenly I seemed to waken, somew… For I thought my name was mention… ’Twas the Adjective that roused m…