“Yes, let Art go, if it must be That with it men must starve - If Music, Painting, Poetry Spring from the wasted hearth!” Yes, let Art go, till once again
FROM the dusty jaded sunlight of… Through the open bedroom window wh… palms, There came a sound of music, thril… That startled me from slumber with…
(For the Australian Labour Feder… FLING out the Flag! Let her fla… With the ring of the wild swan’s w… her reedy lair. Fling out the Flag! And let frien…
. . . In a dark street she met and… Importuning, one wet and mild Mar… We walked and talked together. O… Was very common; thousands know it… ‘Seduced’; a gentleman; a baby com…
(Mindanao, Philippines) IN the dark waveless sea, Deep blue under deep blue, The fisher drifts by on the tide In his small pole-balanced canoe.
SIMPLE You were, and good. No… Beat than the heart within your ge… Labour You had, and happiness, an… And were the maid of nations. Now… To feverish life, feeling the pois…
THE stars shone faint through the… The church-bells were ringing; Three girls, arms laced, were pass… Tramping and singing. Their heads were bare: their short…
. . . I went the other day To see the birds and beasts they k… In the London Zoo. One of the fi… One of the first I noticed, was a… Ragged, befouled, within his iron…
‘THE foxes have holes, And the birds of the air have nest… But where shall the heads of the s… Be laid, be laid?’ ‘Where the cold corpse rests,
(PARIS) SHE.—“Up and down, up and down, From early eve to early day. Life is quicker in the town; When you’ve leisure, anyway!
WHERE is poor Jesus gone? He sits with Dives now, And his dogs flesh their teeth On Lazarus below. Where is poor Jesus gone?
IN the black night, along the mud… Amid the threatening boughs and gh… Hark! sounds that gird the darknes… Murmurs and rumours and reverberan… Trampling, breaths, movements, and…
(For the Ballarat statue of him) THIS is Scotch William Wallace… Who in dark hours first raised his… Who watched the English tyrant No… Steel-clad, with iron hoofs the S…
(PARIS) I STOOD in Père-la-Chaise. The… Paris, the harlot of the nations,… The bug-bright thing that knows no… Flashing her bare shame to the sum…
To Mary Robinson ‘WHAT, are you lost, you pretty… This is no place for such sweet th… Our bodies, rank with sweat, will… And, you’ll observe, our lives are…
