#AustralianWriters
At ten o’clock the great gong soun… Prelude to splendour. I push back… And all the people leave their boo… Still acquiescent, down the marble… Into the dark where we can’t read.…
Our palm designed to grow In deserts, sent roots seeking far… Channels where waters flow. And in the city found Intricate pipings where the waters…
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?
My heart is a pomegranate full of… To crimson with sunshine and swell… Warmed by your smile and besprent… See, it has opened for you!
I am making great big skirts For great big women’ Amazons who’ve fed and slept Themselves inhuman. Such long skirts, not less than tw…
‘Raging winter wind Let loose in springtime What is the message your cold touc… Spite of days and dreams, Warm and easy and sublime,
O man, O woman, grievest so? Art shut away from all delight, And must thou leave this garden pl… O Eve, O Adam, question not. The God is kind who would be crue…
I know a room that’s dark in dayti… No sunbeams light it, Whether in months of gloom or mont… So people slight it. Yet in the noon of each succeeding…
We climbed that hill, The road flushed red in pride At being beauty’s boundary. Eithe… Stretched beauty, beauty ever, bea… For on the left
The sun’s my fire. Golden, from a magnificence of blu… Should be its hue. But woolly clouds, Like boarding-house old ladies, co…
I’d like to spend long hours at ho… With a small child to bother me. I’d take her out to see the shops And fuss about my husband’s tea. Instead of this I spend my days
A lady has a thousand ways Of doing nothing all her days, And so she thinks that they’re wel… She can be idle and content. But when I have a holiday
Green and blue First-named of colours believe the… They first of colours by men were… This grass colour, tree colour, Sky colour, sea colour,
‘I want a parlourmaid.’ ‘Well, let me see If you were God, what kind of mai… ‘She would be tall, She would be fair,
She has all Ireland in her blood, All Ireland’s need of sword and t… With memories dim before the flood… And conflicts of a thousand years. No son of Italy should love