The blue sky arches o’er mountain… The scene is as fair as a scene ca… But I’m breaking my heart for a L… And fogs that shall never come bac… I choke with tears when the day is…

It was the King of Virland— O he was angry then— That rode to crush rebellion With twenty thousand men. His enemies he scattered

Oh, do you hear the argument, far… The voice of old Saint Peter, in… Growing shrill, and ever shriller,… More in sorrow than in anger, like… Old Saint Peter’s had his trouble…

They’re shifting old North Sydney… Perhaps ’tis just as well— They’re carting off the houses Where the old folks used to dwell. Where only ghosts inhabit

A cloud of dust on the long white… And the teams go creeping on Inch by inch with the weary load; And by the power of the green-hide… The distant goal is won.

’Tis glorious morning everywhere Save where the alleys lie— I see the fleecy steam jets bid “Good morning” to the sky. The gullies of the waratah

There’s a pretty little story with… Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan… For we scarcely dare to credit ev’… Those unhappy country papers 'twix… ’Twas the man who owned the wherry…

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…

The boy cleared out to the city fr… They were Scots of the Riverina,… The old man burned his letters, th… And he scratched his name from the… A year went past and another. The…

With the frame of a man, and the f… And the great, wide, wondering, in… With his hideous dress and his hea… And the Warder says, in a softene… ’Tis a ghastly travesty of drill—o…

Man, is the Sea your master? Sea,… This is the song of brave men who… Ceaselessly watching to save you,… Soundly asleep in your state room,… Life is a dream, they tell us, but…

Arming down along the stream, Along the sparkling water, And past the pool where lilies gle… There comes the squatter’s daughte… Her eyes are kind; her lips are wa…

A long farewell to Genoa That rises to the skies, Where the barren coast of Italy Like our own coastline lies. A sad farewell to Genoa,

Boys out there by the western cree… Who hurry away from school, To climb the spurs of the breezy p… Or dive in the shaded pool. right—When the world was wide

Have you seen the bush by moonligh… Blackened log and stump and saplin… Here a patch of glassy water; ther… Have you heard the still voice cal… “I’m the Mother-Bush that bore yo…