#AustralianWriters
A timid child with heart oppressed By images of sin, I slunk into the bush for rest, And found my fairy kin. The fire I carried kept me warm:
An outcry in the bush below, A crash, and boughs that sway, And shouts of laughter let me know Where my two ruffians play. Barelegged, bareheaded, brown and…
The world, all busy round us here… Is still unchanged: but you are tw… The mind, victorious with the risi… Steps boldly and blithely through… On greener grass where brighter fl…
Alone I sit in the dusk and see Surely the living faces, dear to m… Of comrades who have thrown All that they had, the fruit of al…
What of these tender feet That have never toddled yet? What dances shall they beat, With what red vintage wet? In what wild way will they march o…
The seeking souls, by baleful fire… Torn by entrapping brambles, thirs… Hear on the lonely waste the steal… And half-held breath of glaring be… Then soft hands lead them where th…
Dearest, when I left your side, I stood a moment, hesitating, And plunged. The boiling tide Of darkness took me, and down I w… Swift as a bird with folded wing,
Beside the path, on either hand, To keep the garden beds, The rusted iron pickets stand Thin shafts and pointed heads. And straight my spirit swooping go…
’Twas Jack-o’-Winter hailed it fi… But now more timid angels sing, For what dull ear can fail to hear Afar the fluting of the Spring? In all free spaces of the land
A singing voice is in my dream The voice of Erskine, on his boul… Babbling and shouting till he shou… Stoutly against the heavier stream… No longer now my curtained sight,
Eternal cold of silence, where eac… Dies in its birth, and Death’s pa… With soft Lethean traps unwary fe… Or ride with hell’s white steed an… Which of us, searching selfward, h…
Far down the reach a creeping mist Hung dim along the mountain side; On shadowed water, sleek and whist… I let the lazy shallop glide. The ripple scarcely cut the green
The Blatant Beast saw meadows, ma… Sunlit and gently asway, and held… Till each green blade grew rigid i… And ruddied with a glorious morn’s… Thou hast suffered; nor till Free…
Hey, Toby, Toby, Toby!—Dead? The silence is a flood That closes, choking, overhead, And chills the living blood. The leaping friend, whose jolly ba…
HERE lies the woven garb he wore Of grass he gathered by the shore Whereon the phantom waves still fr… And sigh along the visionary sand. ‘Where is he now?’ you cry; ‘What…