#AustralianWriters
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…
IT MAY have been a fragment of t… Truth dreams, at times, disclose; It may have been to Fond Illusion… But thus the story goes: A fierce sun glared upon a gaunt l…
WHEN the moon a golden-pale Lustre on my casement flings, An enchanted nightingale In the haunted silence sings. Strange the song—its wondrous word…
’TIS said that the Passion Flowe… With its figures of spear and swor… And hammer and nails, is a symbol Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord. So still in the Heart of Beauty
A horseman on a hilltop green Drew rein, and wound his horn; So bright he looked he might have… The Herald of the Morn. His steed was of the sovran strain
Dedicated to Louis Becke You are now in London town, Louis Becke, Keeping up your old renown, Writing yarns of women brown,
What shall a man remember In days when he is old, And Life is a dying ember, And Fame a story told? Power—that came to leave him?
METHOUGHT I came unto a world… Where souls stood thick as grain a… And many reapers, full of pious pr… With rapid scythe-sweeps mowed the… And zealous binders bound them up…
Bouquet said: “My floral ring The homage of a heart encloses, Whose thoughts to you go worshippi… In perfume from my blushing roses.… Bracelet said: “My rubies red,
IN Youth, when through our veins… The bright red stream of life, The Soul’s Voice is a trumpet-bla… That calls us to the strife. The Spirit spurns its prison-bars…
NEÆRA crowns me with a purple wr… That she with her own dainty hands… Gold-hearted blossoms and blue bud… Mingled with veined green leaves o… Then, bending down her bright head…
Choose who will the wiser part— I have held her heart to heart; And have felt her heart-strings st… And her soul’s still singing heard For one golden-haloed hour
Half waking and half dreaming, While starry lamps hung low I saw a vision splendid Upon the darkness glow. The Capital Australian,
See how it flashes, This grape-blood fine! Our beards it splashes, O comrade mine! Life dust and ashes
And after all—and after all, Our passionate prayers, and sig… Is life a reckless carnival? And are they lost, our golden y… Ah, no; ah, no; for, long ago,