#AustralianWriters
Pat wasn’t Pat last night at all. He was the rain, The Spring, Young Dionysus, white and warm, Lilac and everything.
I have three loves who are all mos… Each one has cost me many a tear. The one who is dead yet lives in m… I were too poor had I less than t…
You who are dead, Do you know They’ve dug up half the irises That used to grow Here in the quadrangle a year ago?
I know more about flowers, And Pat knows about ships. ‘Schooner’ and 'barquentine’ Are words of note on his lips. Even 'schooner, barque-rigged’
Today, in class, I read aloud to forty little boys The legend of King Croesus’ boast… They were so young, Restless, and eager, I believed t…
You, whom the grave cannot bind, Shall a song hold you? Still you escape from the mesh Spun to enfold you. Your woven texture of flesh
O you, dear trees, you have learne… You must have studied this only th… Men have thought of God and laugh… And of love. And of song. But you, dear trees, from your bir…
Tall trees along the road, I never saw you Last year in summertime. He came before you With his blue eyes.
Old memories waken old desires Infallibly. While we’re alive With eye or ear or sense at all, Sometimes, must love revive. But we’ll not think, when some str…
Through the Museum I stroll, and see Goblets fashioned in Arcady, Spears from the Islands, and robe… Gew-gaws of pomp and of old desire…
Today I’d like to be a nun And go and say My rosary beneath the trees out th… In this shy sun
Beauty does not walk through lovel… Beauty walks with horror in her ha… Down long centuries of pleasant wa… Men have found the terrible most f… Youth is lovelier in death than li…
Child Sun Why will you play Peep Bo Now in, now out The workroom window so? True ’tis
My window pane is broken Just a bit Where the small curtain doesn’t Cover it. And in the afternoon
Great crane o’ertopping the delica… Why do you seem so fair, Swaying and raising your load with… High in the misty air? You are a wonder of pearl and grey