#AustralianWriters
No pause! The buried pipes ring o… The flour-faced Antic runs from s… Now Columbine, with scarlet pout, Floats in the smoking moon of ligh… Now programmes wave, heads bend be…
After the whey-faced anonymity Of river-gums and scribbly-gums an… After the rubbing and the hit of b… You come to the South Country As if the argument of trees were d…
SOPHIE, in shocks of scarlet la… Receives her usual embrace Beneath a hedge, behind a curtain, Or in the chambers of His Grace. Whether a kiss be worth the care
North Country, filled with gestur… With trees that fence, like archer… The flanks of hidden valleys Where nothing’s left to hide But verticals and perpendiculars,
THOU moon, like a white Christus… At the sky’s cross-roads, I’ll co… Though travellers bend up, and see… Let them go truckle with their gif… I’ll ask no favours of thy cocker…
RANKS of electroplated cubes, dw… Like the other pasture, the trigon… Death’s candy-bed. Stone caked on… Dry pyramids and racks of iron bal… Life is observed, a precipitate of…
‘BEES of old Spanish wine Pipe at this Inn to-night, Music and candleshine Fill the dim chambers . . . . ’Fans toss and ladies pace,
I. The King of Cuckooz THE King of Cuckooz Contrey Hangs peaked above Argier With Janzaries and Marabutts To bid a sailor fear—
(To the etchings of Norman Lindsa… Now the statues lean over each to… Gravely in warm plaster turning; t… The trees come suddenly to flower… The water-gardens to glassy fire,…
Do you give yourself to me utterly… Body and no-body, flesh and no-fle… Not as a fugitive, blindly or bitt… But as a child might, with no othe… Yes, utterly.
‘TALBINGO RIVER’as one say… ‘Captain’ or 'Commodore’ that sme… In old engagements no one quite be… Or understands. Talbingo had its… As they did, ran with waters huge…
At last I know’it’s on old iv… Glassed with old miniatures and ga… I’ve seen those eyes like smould… As carp might see them behind thei… In pale green fishponds’they’r…
CAPTAIN Dobbin, having retired… In the dumb tides of, with a handf… A few poisoned arrows, a cask of p… And five thousand pounds in the co… Now sails the street in a brick vi…
IF all those tumbling babes of he… Plump cherubim with blown cheeks, Could vault in these warm skies, o… Our starry silent mountain-peaks— O painter of chub-faced, shining-t…
Time that is moved by little fidge… Is not my time, the flood that doe… Between the double and the single… Of a ship’s hour, between a round… From the dark warship riding there…