#AustralianWriters
Sometimes I watch you, mark your… Your grave brow over-weighted with… Your mouth’s straight line—details… That all aloofness in your aspect… And yet when in the dark down from…
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
Sometimes I lose My power of loving for an hour or… Then I misuse My knowledge of friends’ secrets t… Them far more heartily than others…
Every day Miss Mary goes her roun… Through the splendid house and thr… Looking if the kitchen table’s whi… Seeing if the great big fire’s ali… Finding specks on shining pans and…
I went down to post a letter Through the garden, through the ga… All the lovely stars were shining As I went. They were free as I, unhappy
I can’t feel the sunshine Or see the stars aright For thinking of her beauty And her kisses bright. She would let me kiss her
This morning I got up before the… Had seized the hill, And scrambled heart-hot, noisy, pa… In sleep laid still. There they lay helpless under the…
When Gertie came in To work today She was much less weary And far more gay. We asked her the reason
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…
O little plum tree in the garden,… Aflower again, With memories of a million springs… Brief years of pain. O little tree, you have the power…
They have a few little hours To study the world’ Its lovely absence of clouds, Or the thunderbolts hurled By hidden powers’
The sun’s my fire. Golden, from a magnificence of blu… Should be its hue. But woolly clouds, Like boarding-house old ladies, co…
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…
Sometimes I think God has his day… For being friends. He says: 'Forgive my careless way… No one pretends I’m always kind; but for today
‘I used to have dozens of handkerc… Of finest lawn. I used to have silk shirts and fin… He’s like a faun This darling out-at-elbows Irish…