The men who camp with Danger Are mostly quiet men: And one may use a rifle, And one may use a pen, And one may strap a camera

PART I Queen Hilda rode along the lines, And she was young and fair; And forward on her shoulders fell The heavy braids of hair:

WE THROW us down on the dusty p… When the gold has gone from the we… But we rise and tramp on the track… For we’re tired—too tired to rest. Darker and denser the shadows fall

I MIND the days when ladies fair Helped on my overcoat, And tucked the silken handkerchief About my precious throat; They used to see the poet’s soul

(According to Commissioner Hay, Chief Officer of the Salvation Army in Australia, who has just returned from Europe, there are already about 20,000 Salvationists at the Front, and more ...

A dusty clearing in the scrubs Of barren, western lands— Where, out of sight, or sign of ho… The wretched school-house stands; A roof that glares at glaring days…

Our Andy’s gone to battle now 'Gainst Drought, the red marauder… Our Andy’s gone with cattle now Across the Queensland border. He’s left us in dejection now;

Out West, where the stars are bri… Where the scorching north wind blo… And the bones of the dead gleam wh… And the sun on a desert glows— Yet within the selfish kingdom

‘this a wonderful time when these… These long ’small hours’ of night, When grass is crisp, and the air i… And the stars come close and brigh… The moon hangs caught in a silvery…

They sing of the grandeur of cliff… But the cliffs of the ocean are tr… And I long to wander and dream an… Where the cliffs by the ocean run… To the northward far as the eye ca…

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…

No one lives in Golden Gully, for… And its clay shall never sully blu… For the diggers long have vanished… And the bush, by diggers banished,… Now, when dying Daylight slowly d…

We must suffer, husband and father… For the wrong we have taken part i… Let the bride of frivolous fashion… For I tell you the nations shall… How shall Australia escape it– we…

Wide solemn eyes that question me, Wee hand that pats my head— Where only two have stroked before… And both of them are dead. ‘Ah, poo-ah Daddy mine,’ she says…

’Twas in the felon’s dock he stood… His voice with grief was broken, a… He muttered, as that broken nose h… ‘It’s orfal when the p’leece has g… ‘I am a honest workin’ cove, as an…