#Australians #XIXCentury #XXCentury
THERE can be no doubt but that without sentiment the world would be worse than it now is; but sentiment, though a good servant, is a bad master. Though not wishing to make a virtue of s...
By the bodies and minds and souls… In the city’s offal-holes, where t… By the prayers that bubble out, bu… We swear the tyrants of earth to r… By the child that sees the light,…
A long farewell to Genoa That rises to the skies, Where the barren coast of Italy Like our own coastline lies. A sad farewell to Genoa,
Of home, name and wealth and ambit… We are children of fortune and luc… They deny there’s a shred of our c… But they cannot deny us the pluck! We are vagabond scamps, we are kin…
They were hanging men in Buckland… The parson from his pulpit and the… They were hanging men and brothers… When a quiet man from Buckland ro… Not a young man in his glory fille…
I cannot blame old Israel yet, For I am not a sage— I shall not know until I get The son of my old age. The mysteries of this Vale of Tea…
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…
To my fellow sinners all, who, in… Through the Commonwealth to-night… New Year’s Resolutions are jerry-… But I want to say to you, “Give y… You who drink for drinking’s sake,…
On the top of Mount Clarence, Al… On the summit of Mount Clarence r… Stands a tall and naked flagstaff,… Russian scare that scares no longe… Yet the flagstaff still is standin…
Texas Jack, you are amusin’. By… When I seen yer rig and saddle wi… Holy smoke! In such a saddle how… Why, I seen a gal ride bareback w… Gosh! so-help-me! strike-me-balmy!…
He was lengthsman on the railway,… That “pre-eminence in sorrow” of t… But as dear to him and precious we… Were the workman’s little daughter… Speak their names in tones that li…
BLACKSOIL PLAINS were grey… Fifteen years away, and five hundr… Swag and bag and billy carried all… Before we were married, and I wis… River banks were grassy—grassy in…
Wide solemn eyes that question me, Wee hand that pats my head— Where only two have stroked before… And both of them are dead. ‘Ah, poo-ah Daddy mine,’ she says…
When you wear a cloudy collar and… And you cannot sleep for thinking… You may be a man of sorrows, and o… And as yet be unacquainted with th… For I rather think that nothing h…
When the wars of the world seemed… Ten years ago in Australia, I wro… And I pictured Australians fighti… For the old things, pride or count… And they lounged on the rim of Au…