#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…
Pink eucalyptus flowers (The flowers are out) Are scented honey sweet For bees to buzz about. Pink eucalyptus flowers
Today I saw A market cart going along the road… High-piled and creaking with a son… Of cabbages. The driver sat
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…
‘Raging winter wind Let loose in springtime What is the message your cold touc… Spite of days and dreams, Warm and easy and sublime,
I’m like all lovers, wanting love… A very mighty thing for you and me… In certain moods your love should… That burnt your very life up in de… The only kind of love then to my m…
Cherry plum blossom in an old tin… Oh, it is lovely, beautiful and fa… With sun on it and little shadows… All in among the fragrant wonder t… Cherry plum blossom on the workroo…
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.…
To Plato’s dictum Assent she lends. All things in common We hold, as friends. I share her riches.
They are so glad of a young compan… They hail and bless me, these boys… And I whose pathway was dark and… Have no more need of the sun to sh… We’ll walk in darkness, obscure, d…
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
I count the days until I see you,… But the days only. I dare not reckon up the nights an… I shall be lonely. But when at last I meet you, dear…
I like the riders Clad in rose and blue; Their colours glitter And their horses too. Swift go the riders
Today they made a bonfire Close to the cherry tree And smoke like incense drifted Through the white tracery. I think the gardener really
All through the day at my machine There still keeps going A strange little tune through hear… As I sit sewing: ‘There is a child in Hungary,