On the moonlighted decks there are… While smoothly the steamer is hold… And the old folks are chatting on… And the lads and the lassies go st… Some gaze half-entranced on the be…

We have lived till these times, br… We who lived in this; We have not grown old together, Soon our lives must close— Rewi’s first! For I am dying

We, three men of commerce, Striving wealth to raise, See but little promise In the coming days; Though our hearts are brittle,

An’ SO ’e’s dead in London, An’ answered to the call, An’ trotted through the Long Stre… With ’earse an’ plumes an’ all? We was village boys an’ brothers—

Down the street as I was drifting… Came a ghost, and for a moment wal… Now my heart was hard and bitter,… So I felt no great aversion to hi… Said the Shade: ‘At finer feelin…

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…

So, sit you down in a straight-bac… And cross your knees with your wis… Grown fat and moral apace, old man… In spite of all, I’d as lief be b… They were hard old days; they were…

The wireless tells and the cable t… How our boys behaved by the Darda… Some thought in their hearts “Wil… We knew them of old and we knew th… Knew they would—

It has a “point” of neither sex But comes in guise of both, And, doubly dangerous complex, It is a thing to loathe— A lady with her sweet, sad smile,

I mind the river from Mount Frome To Ballanshantie’s Bridge, The Mudgee Hills, and Buckaroo, Lowe’s Peak, and Granite Ridge. The “tailers” in the creek beneath…

A son of elder sons I am, Whose boyhood days were cramped an… Through ages of domestic sham And family lies and family cant. Come, elder brothers mine, and bri…

So I sit and write and ponder, wh… Seeing visions “over yonder” of th… In the corner– not a vision– but a… Stand a box of ammunition and a ri… And in this, the living present, l…

While you use your best endeavour… The gambling and the drink which a… While you glorify the bully and ta… You’re a clever southern writer, s… If you sing of waving grasses when…

There is a lasting little flower, That everybody knows, Yet none has thought to think abou… The little Native Rose. The wattle and the waratah—

We set no right above hers, No earthly light nor star, She hath had many lovers, But not as lovers are: They all were gallant fellows