#Australians #Lesbian #Women
She is not of the fireside, My lovely love; Nor books, nor even a cradle, She bends above. No, she is bent with lashes,
Dearest, dearest, Bother the slow hours That hold and keep me From the leafy bowers You make more lovely than a storm…
And is love very strong where hono… Would the world ever speak of Lan… Or Tristram’s love had they put h… What would you think if Guinevere… And begged for kisses and had begg…
A bunch of lilac and a storm of ha… On the same afternoon! Indeed I k… Here in the South it always happe… That lilac is companioned by the g… I took some hailstones from the wi…
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’…
What were the good of stars if non… But mariners, astronomers and such… The sun and moon and stars were ma… I know that much.
Now all the lovely days are past, The hours of sun and leagues of se… And starry nights that lay between Yourself and me. Our boat has left the sea behind.
I sit at my machine, Hour long beside me Vera aged nin… Babbles her sweet and innocent tal… Her boy, she hopes, will prove Unlike his father in the act of lo…
He: That isn’t you. She: It’s me, in my blue skirt And scarlet coat and little golden… He: Not good enough. She: Well, burn it if you choose
Through the Museum I stroll, and see Goblets fashioned in Arcady, Spears from the Islands, and robe… Gew-gaws of pomp and of old desire…
Tall trees along the road, I never saw you Last year in summertime. He came before you With his blue eyes.
I like the riders Clad in rose and blue; Their colours glitter And their horses too. Swift go the riders
When I was a child, I felt the fairies’ power. Of a sudden my dry life Would burst into flower. The skies were my path,
Today is rebels’ day. And yet we… All of us rebels, until day is don… And when the stars come out we cel… A revolution that’s not yet begun. Today is rebels’ day. And men in…
You who are dead, Do you know They’ve dug up half the irises That used to grow Here in the quadrangle a year ago?