#Australians #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Twice now that lucid fiction of th… dissolves, the sphere that winter’… still-charm’d to glass the sad met… and futile ages of the suffering r… what, in its halt, the weary mood…
I SAID, This misery must end: Shall I, that am a man and know that sky and wind are yet my frien… sit huddled under any blow? so speaking left the dismal room
O WHITE wind, numbing the world to a mask of suffering hate! and thy goblin pipes have skirl’… all night, at my broken gate. O heart, be hidden and kept
The droning tram swings westward:… the wire sings overhead, and chill midwinter draughts rattle the glas… that shows the dusking way I pass to yon four turreted square tower
Four springtimes lost: and in the… here in this quiet hour of glory,… while o’er the bridal land the westering sun dwells in untrou… a bridegroom proud of his permitte…
And shall the living waters heed our vain desire, insensate Art! and fill the common dust I knead upgather’d from the trodden mart? As well might they forsake their c…
Spring breezes over the blue, now lightly frolicking in some tro… go forth to meet her way, for here the spell hath won and dr… 0 happy wind, thou that in her war…
Fire in the heavens, and fire alon… and fire made solid in the flinty… thick-mass’d or scatter’d pebble,… the breathless hour that lives in… This valley, long ago the patient…
Dawns of the world, how I have kn… so many, and so varied, and the sa… dawns o’er the timid plains, or in… of the arm’d hills, or by the unsl… a chill touch on the chill flesh o…
How old is my heart, how old, how… and did I ever go forth with song… I seem to have trod on many ways:… I know not how many homes; and to… was still to leave a portion of mi…
Secreta Silvarum: Prelude Oh yon, when Holda leaves her hil… of winter, on the quest of June, black oaks with emerald lamplets t… that flicker forth to her magic tu…
The winter eve is clear and chill: the world of air is folded still; the quiet hour expects the moon; and yon my home awaits me soon behind the panes that come and go
Deep mists of longing blur the lan… as in your late October eve: almost I think your hand might lea… its old caress upon my hand— for sure this floating world of dr…
The yellow gas is fired from stree… past rows of heartless homes and h… dead churches, and the unending pa… by crowds - say rather, haggard sh… round nightly haunts of their delu…
Once, when the sun-burst flew its banner above broad seas and ea… my casement knew that morning in her wondrous isle… perpetual balm, and tidings trumpe…
