#Australians #Lesbian #Women
This year I have seen autumn with… Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of myst… In the slow ripening of the town-b… Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands… And silver beech turned gold now w…
She is not of the fireside, My lovely love; Nor books, nor even a cradle, She bends above. No, she is bent with lashes,
My friend declares Being woman and virgin she Takes small account of periodicity And she is right. Her days are calmly spent
I cannot be tricked out in lovely… All times, all days. My mind has moods of hating pearl… And jewel-blaze. Nor is the body worthily attired
O great golden head lie in my lap, Sweet, sweet, lie there. Sleep and I’ll watch thee lest ev… Sweet, sweet and fair. O great golden head lie on my brea…
I came to live in Sophia Street, In a little house in Sophia Stree… With an inch of floor Between door and door And a yard you’d measure in childr…
They say she was a creature of the… A lover of the angels, silence bou… She sought no friendships. She wa… Her sister Charlotte found. I know she nursed her brother till…
‘I want a parlourmaid.’ ‘Well, let me see If you were God, what kind of mai… ‘She would be tall, She would be fair,
How funny it would be if dreamy I Should leave one book behind me wh… And that a book of Law’this sil… Just written for the money it will… I do hope, when it’s finished, I’…
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…
Somebody brought in lilac, Lilac after rain. Isn’t it strange, belovéd of mine You’ll not see it again? Lilac glad with the sun on it
If I had six white horses And six sturdy friends, I’d sell them into slavery, If that would gain your ends. I’d sell them into slavery,
When I am making poetry I’m good And happy then. I live in a deep world of angelhoo… Afar from men. And all the great and bright and f…
My darling lies down in her soft w… And she laughs at me. Her laughter has flushed her pale… Her eyes dance with glee. My darling lies close in her warm…
Into old rhyme The new words come but shyly. Here’s a brave man Who sings of commerce dryly. Swift-gliding cars