(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…
(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…
BRUTE beast, at last you have it… Truth’s not a phrase, justice an i… Your life ran red with murder, gre… Blood has washed blood clean, and… Your carrion will be purified. Ye…
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…
(Brisbane) ‘A little Soldier of the Army of… BURY him without a word! No appeal to death; Only the call of the bird
He asked me of my friend– “a cleve… Such various talent, business, jou… A pen that might some day have sen… From our greatest newspapers.”– “… All this,” I said.– “And yet he w…
’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
WHEN day’s hard task’s done, Eve’s scant meal partaken, Out we steal each one, Weariless, unshaken. In small reeking squares,
WHERE is poor Jesus gone? He sits with Dives now, And his dogs flesh their teeth On Lazarus below. Where is poor Jesus gone?
YOU ask me why I love her, As I love nought on earth? Why I’ll put none above her For sorrow or for mirth? Though there be others fairer;
One thing we praise you for that i… The dauntless eyes that faced the… The hand that never wearied in the… Till, through the dark’s despair,… It rose, that vision of forgotten…
(For the Ballarat statue of him) THIS is Scotch William Wallace… Who in dark hours first raised his… Who watched the English tyrant No… Steel-clad, with iron hoofs the S…
YOU tell me these great lords hav… I say they have degraded it. Look… When ever did they let the Poet s… The Painter paint, the Sculptor h… The Music raise her heavenly voic…
It is something in this darker dre… to have wrestled with its pleas… it is something to have sinned, an… it is something to have failed,… It is something to have loved the…
THE stars shone faint through the… The church-bells were ringing; Three girls, arms laced, were pass… Tramping and singing. Their heads were bare: their short…