Light of my lives! Is the time no… Lo, I’ve brooded on a star Through many a year, with the hope… That, in some future far, I would know the joy of a love ret…

We mean to say, it never has been… That anyone but England could dec… In the crease or at the wicket, Just exactly what was cricket And, of course, I mean to say, we…

There’s a looper caterpillar in my… There are weevils weaving strands… There are throngs of thieving thri… On my seedlings and my slips, And the hoppers hop around my holl…

At the meeting of the waters Where the dark tree shadows play Wangaratta’s sons and daughters Dream the drowsy hours away; Placid see the season’s greeting

Mr Fitzmickle, the martinet, Still with an iron hand Rules house and home. Like a pee… He barks each curt command. And he packs the family off to bed

The Censor sits behind his desk, And smiles a censored smile; His great, blue pencil hovers o’er Some masterpiece awhile, Then swoops - oh, child of whose p…

Aha! Beware! I know your guilty p… I was a witness of that secret cri… One word! and all your fondest hop… I bide me time. I hold you in me grip, unhappy man…

There’s a breeze about the mountai… A song to mock the little men who… Or play at toil or pleasure where… But put my good axe in my hand and… And it’s: Hey, boy!

Old Pete Paraday, his mind works… But, when it fastens on a thoughts… He measures it and mumbles it unti… Just as he mumbles bits and scraps… ‘I likes to think a bit,’ says he.…

When first I found this forest pl… More years ago than I can tell, I met a man of alien race And came to know and like him well… A humble hawker, spare and tall,

When I go back from Billy’s place… The mazy road, the crazy road that… Ma always says, “Why don’t you co… The footbridge track will bring yo… I cannot go that way, you know, be…

Day after day, week after burning… A ruthless sun has sucked the fore… Morn after anxious morn men’s glan… The hills, hard-etched against a h… Gay blossoms droop and die.

‘Twice one are two; twice two are… I can still hear it floating thro’… Those childish voices falling, ris… In a room where heat is prevalent… ‘Twice nine are eight-teen.’ And…

They say I am a shy, wild thing, That seeks the wild bush glade. Quick to be gone on whirring wing, Where stangers would invade; But well I know what all birds kn…

With wood and wool for Adelaide The paddle boats came down When here this spritely river maid Built up her river town. Flanked by the green of spreading…