#AustralianWriters
I know more about flowers, And Pat knows about ships. ‘Schooner’ and 'barquentine’ Are words of note on his lips. Even 'schooner, barque-rigged’
The foot of my machine Sails up and down Upon the blue of this fine lady’s… Sail quickly, little boat, With gifts for me,
I dreamt last night of happy home-… Friends I had loved and had belie… Came happily to visit me and said I was a part of their fair home-co… It’s strange that I should dream…
Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the gard… With red threads binding them and… These shall be her symbols, for sh… Holy in her maidenhood and very fu… Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlis…
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!
Last night, in a dream, I felt th… Known to me of old; And there passed me, not much chan… Smiling, suffering, cold. This morning, I lay with closed l…
I’d love to have you on a rainy da… Tucked in a chair, my head against… To sit and dream with. Sometime y… My home-sharer whom rain can’t kee…
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
My friend declares Being woman and virgin she Takes small account of periodicity And she is right. Her days are calmly spent
When my lover put the sea between… And went wandering in Italy My poor silly heart miscalled his… ‘Leaving me’. Towns of Spain and Italy he staye…
I bought a red hat To please my lover. He will hardly see it When he looks me over, Though it’s a fine hat.
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…
Maisie’s been holding down her hea… Her little red head. And her poin… Rests on her neck that slips so so… The square-cut low-necked darling… In such a way, since it’s high-wai…
Across the sea Come homeward ships With freight of boys. And still must we Forgo the joys
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…