#AustralianWriters
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…
My Man Says I weigh about four ounces, Says I must have hollow legs.
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…
I made a heaven for you filled wit… Each star a song Meant to give happy music to your… Day and night long. But in your workshop you are close…
He: That isn’t you. She: It’s me, in my blue skirt And scarlet coat and little golden… He: Not good enough. She: Well, burn it if you choose
She is not of the fireside, My lovely love; Nor books, nor even a cradle, She bends above. No, she is bent with lashes,
Up in my room on my unmade bed I sat and read. There was work waiting for me belo… I didn’t go. For in my little green room the so…
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 I saw A market cart going along the road… High-piled and creaking with a son… Of cabbages. The driver sat
I have golden shoes To make me fleet. They are like the wind Underneath my feet. When my lover’s kiss
O sweet and fair! These words are… O sweet and fair! A year ago I’ld… Some better words of praise Than sweet and fair. O sweet and fair, and weak, and mo…
Now I’ve been three days In the place where I am staying, I’ve taken up new ways’ Land-owning and flute playing. There’s an orchard ground
Flowers have uncountable ways of p… Not solid, but moonlight or sunlig… Primroses strive for the colour of… Dew-besprent. Freesias are flames wherein light…
We’ve a room That we call home, With a bed in it, And a table And some chairs,