#Australians #Women
All things conspire to hold me fro… even my love, since that would mask you and unna… till merely woman and man we live. All men wear arms against the rebe…
In the vine-shadows on the veranda… under the yellow leaves, in the co… sit two sisters. Their slow voices… like little winter creeks, dwindle… and the square of sunlight moves o…
We meet and part now over all the… we, the lost company, take hands together in the night,… the night in our brief happiness,… We, who sought many things, throw…
Beside his heavy-shouldered team thirsty with drought and chilled w… he weathered all the striding year… till they ran widdershins in his b… Till the long solitary tracks
The small blue Arab stallion danc… like a glancing breaker, like a st… In his prick-ears, the wind, that… sings of the dunes of Arabia, lion… The small blue stallion poses like…
So here, twisted in steel, and spo… your sunlight hide, smelling of de… they crushed out your throat the t… you sang in the dark ranges. With… you mourned him! - the drinker of…
You who were darkness warmed my fl… where out of darkness rose the see… Then all a world I made in me; all the world you hear and see hung upon my dreaming blood.
I saw our golden years on a black… our time of love spilt in the furi… ‘O we are winter-caught, and we mu… said the dark dream, ‘and time is… —And woke into the night; but you…
Having known war and peace and loss and finding, I drink my coffee and wait for the sun to rise, With kitchen swept, cat fed,
When I was a child I saw a burning bird in a tree. I see became I am, I am became I see. In winter dawns of frost
The moon drained white by day lifts from the hill where the old pear-tree fallen in… springs up in blossom still. Women believe in the moon:
Along the road the magpies walk with hands in pockets, left and ri… They tilt their heads, and stroll… In their well-fitted black and whi… They look like certain gentlemen
Tunnelling through the night, the… in a splendour of power, with a so… shaking the orchards, waking the young from a dream, scattering… the old mens’ sleep, laying
This is not I. I had no body once… only what served my need to laugh… and stare at stars and tentatively… on the fringe of foam and wave and… Eyes loved, hands reached for me,…
The rows of cells are unroofed, a flute for the wind’s mouth, who comes with a breath of ice from the blue caves of the south. O dark and fierce day: