Call me traitor to my country and… And the foe of “law and order”, we… But I scorn the biassed sentence… That was fouled and mutilated by t… For the strength that I inherit i…

Set me back for twenty summers— For I’m tired of cities now— Set my feet in red-soil furrows And my hands upon the plough, With the two 'Black Brothers’ tru…

“Please God, we’ll make a scholar… She’s not like an empress, And crowned with raven hair, She is not “pert an’ bonny,” Nor “winsome, wee, an’ fair.”

This poem is from a short story by Henry Lawson, “Jack Cornstalk”, the first section written especially for the story, with the other sections (interspersed within the rest of the story...

She says she’s very sorry, as she… You calmly say 'Good-bye’ to her… Then you lift your hat and leave h… But you’re hit, old man—hit hard. In your brain the words are burnin…

I notice in “Answers to Correspondents” that the Bulletin has no sympathy for, or can’t understand the poet bloke that wishes to be buried at sea. I don’t wish to be buried anywhere jus...

I saw it in the days gone by, When the dead girl lay at rest, And the wattle and the native rose We placed upon her breast. I saw it in the long ago

When you’ve got no chance at all, Take it fightin’. When you’re driven to the wall, Take it fightin’. There are things that we delight i…

There is a lasting little flower, That everybody knows, Yet none has thought to think abou… The little Native Rose. The wattle and the waratah—

Ben Boyd’s Tower is watching— Watching o’er the sea; Ben Boyd’s Tower is waiting For her and me. We do not know the day,

It has a “point” of neither sex But comes in guise of both, And, doubly dangerous complex, It is a thing to loathe— A lady with her sweet, sad smile,

They are creeping on through the c… Ere they rush to stab with the bay… And many are wounded, many are dea… And fling them down on a blood-sta… And they dream, perhaps, of the da…

The motor car is sullen, like a th… The motor car is master of Smart… ’Twas born of sweated genius and c… ’Twas planned by Retribution to r… And straight for Caesar’s Column,

Out West, where the stars are bri… Where the scorching north wind blo… And the bones of the dead gleam wh… And the sun on a desert glows— Yet within the selfish kingdom

Have you seen the bush by moonligh… Blackened log and stump and saplin… Here a patch of glassy water; ther… Have you heard the still voice cal… “I’m the Mother-Bush that bore yo…