#AustralianWriters
The wan light of a stormy dawn Gleamed on a tossing ship: It was the In Memoriam Upon a mourning trip. Wild waves were on the windward bo…
BY the road, near her father’s… There groweth a hawthorn tree: Its blossoms are fair and fragrant As the love that I cast from me. It is all a-bloom this morning
There was a Boy, long years ago, Who hour by hour awake would lie, And watch the white moon gliding s… Along her pathway in the sky. And every night as thus he lay
When the tender hand of Night Like a rose-leaf falls Softly on your starry eyes; When the Sleep-God calls, And the gate of dreams is wide,
IN my garden, O Beloved! Many pleasant trees are growing, Peach, and apricot, and apple, Myrtle, lilac, and laburnum. Fair are they, but midst them lone…
There is a town in Ireland, A little town I know; Its girls have tender Irish eyes Beneath their brows of snow; And in the field around it
GOOD fellows are laughing and dr… (To-night no heart should grieve), But I am of old days thinking, Alone, on Christmas Eve. Old memories fast are springing
Not only on cross and gibbet, By sword, and fire, and flood, Have perished the world’s sad ma… Whose names are writ in blood. A woman lay in a hovel,
They brought my fair love out upon… Out from the dwelling that her smi… Out from the life that her life ma… Into the glitter of the garish str… And no man wept, save I, for that…
ONCE a poet—long ago— Wrote a song as void of art As the songs that children know, And as pure as a child’s heart. With a sigh he threw it down,
Her gown was simple woven wool, But, in repayment, Her body sweet made beautiful The simplest raiment: For all its fine, melodious curves
WHEN the sap runs up the tree. And the vine runs o’er the wall, When the blossom draws the bee, From the forest comes a call, Wild, and clear, and sweet, and st…
LO, upon the carpet, where Throned upon a heap of slain Blue-eyed dolls of beauty rare (Ah, they pleaded all in vain!) Sits the Infant Tamerlane!
Soul of the leaping flame; Heart of the scarlet fire, Spirit that hath for name Only the name - Desire! Subtle art thou and strong;
O THE Queen may keep her golden Crown and sceptre of command! I would give them both twice over To be King of Babyland. Sure, it is a wondrous country