1916
#AustralianWriters
Where the needle-woman toils Through the night with hand and br… Till the sickly daylight shudders… Till her eyes seem to crawl, And her brain seems to creep—
The Channel fog has lifted— And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from ‘home.’ The fields our parents longed for—
It was somewhere in September, an… When I came, in search of 'copy’,… 'Come-and-have-a-drink’ we’ll call… And ‘twas raining, for a wonder, u… ’Neath the public-house verandah…
By his paths through the parched d… Hot rides and the terrible tramps; By the hunger, the thirst, the pri… Of his work in the further most ca… By his worth in the light that sha…
I am back from up the country—very… Seeking for the Southern poets’ l… I have lost a lot of idols, which… Burnt a lot of fancy verses, and… Further out may be the pleasant sc…
Did you see that man riding past, With shoulders bowed with care? There’s failure in his eyes to las… And in his heart despair. He seldom looks to left or right,
TWO COUPLES are drifting the… (Men of the world know well) From the ballroom glare as the nig… (Men of the world can tell). Many are round them who know, and…
O I dreamt I shore in a shearing… For every one of the rouseabouts w… Dressed up like a page in a pantom… They had flaxen hair they had coal… There was short plump girls there…
Above the ashes straight and tall, Through ferns with moisture drippi… I climb beneath the sandstone wall… My feet on mosses slipping. Like ramparts round the valley’s e…
It chanced upon the very day we’d… A buggy brought a stranger to the… He had a round and jolly face, and… He drove right up between the huts… We chaps were smoking after tea, a…
I hate the pen, the foolscap fair, The poet’s corner, and the page, For Grief and Death are written t… In every land and every age. The poets sing and play their part…
And now a son has come again To keep the peace or strike the bl… And have a long, great, glorious r… Through calm or tempest, weal or w… And strange things set me wonderin…
Jim Duff was a ‘native,’as wild a… A stealer and duffer of cattle was… But back in his youth he had stole… Or a diamond rather—the heart of a… She served with a squatter who liv…
I’m glad that the Bushmen can’t s… A-doing it tall in the town; I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun… And my collar jumps up and down. I’m wearing a vest that would char…
The squatter saw his pastures wide Decrease, as one by one The farmers moving to the west Selected on his run; Selectors took the water up