(A Memory of August, 1883) I STOOD in the ghastly gleaming… Of the dreadful river that rolls h… Woe; And mine eyes were heavy with slee…

’TIS not when I am here, In these homeless homes, Where sin and shame and disease And foul death comes; ’Tis not when heart and brain

O WORDS as clear as are the daw… Between the still cloud-layers, an… As violets are, looking through cr… And with such melody as birds may… That sing the morning notes where…

(PARIS) I STOOD in Père-la-Chaise. The… Paris, the harlot of the nations,… The bug-bright thing that knows no… Flashing her bare shame to the sum…

GRAVE this deep in your hearts, Forget not the tale of the past! Never, never believe That any will help you, or can, Saving only Yourselves!

(For the Irish Delegates in Aust… DO you want to hear a story, With a nobler praise than ‘glory,’ Of a man who loved the right like… hell?

To Mary Robinson ‘WHAT, are you lost, you pretty… This is no place for such sweet th… Our bodies, rank with sweat, will… And, you’ll observe, our lives are…

THERE was a time when all thy so… To speak thy name, England, when Europe echoed back… Thy fearless fame: When Spain reeled shattered helpl…

An Address on her Jubilee Year MADAM, you have done well! Let… Speech addressed to a woman who ne… Daub you over with lies or deafen… I will praise you alone for your a…

Sir, we approve your curling lip a… At this vile sight. These men, these women are brute b… Sir, but that you are right? Panders and harlots, rogues and th…

FROM the dusty jaded sunlight of… Through the open bedroom window wh… palms, There came a sound of music, thril… That startled me from slumber with…

. . . In a dark street she met and… Importuning, one wet and mild Mar… We walked and talked together. O… Was very common; thousands know it… ‘Seduced’; a gentleman; a baby com…

(To——) HAD you lived when a tyrant King Strove to make all the slaves of o… With Nobles and with Churchmen yo… Had stood unflinching, pure and tr…

(Brisbane) ‘A little Soldier of the Army of… BURY him without a word! No appeal to death; Only the call of the bird

In night-long days, in aeons    where all Time’s nights are one… where life and death sing paeans as of Greeks and Galileans,    never begun or done;