#AustralianWriters
The young girl stood beside me. I Saw not what her young eyes cou… —A light, she said, not of the sky Lives somewhere in the Orange Tre… —Is it, I said, of east or west?
QUIETLY as rosebuds Talk to thin air, Love came so lightly I knew not he was there. Quietly as lovers
In the far days, when every day wa… Fear was upon me and the fear was… Ere I had learned the recompense… In the dim days I trembled, for I… God was above me, always frowning…
When you go underground with all y… Your kindly lies and your ridiculo… You shall not ever fear to face ag… The strong man’s rage, the woman w… Nor song nor sigh will beat upon y…
On the blue plains in wintry days The stately birds move in the danc… Keen eyes have they, and quaint ol… On the blue plains in wintry days. The Wind, their unseen Piper, pla…
Ragged, unheeded, stooping, meanly… The poor pass to the pond: not far… The spires go up to God. Shyly they come from the unpainted… Coats have they made of old unhapp…
O HEART of Spring! Spirit of light and love and joyou… So soon to faint beneath the fiery… Still smiles the Earth, eager for… Welcome art thou, soever short thy…
YOUR voice was the rugged old voice that I knew; I gave the best grip of my greeting to you. I knew not of your lips—
Oh ’twas a poor country, in Autum… The only green was the cutting gra… Oh, the thin wheat and the brown o… But down in the poor country no pa… My wealth it was the glow that liv…
THE STARS are pale. Old is the Night, his case is gri… His strength doth fail. Through stilly hours The dews have draped with love’s o…
In the dim counties we take the long calm Lilting no haziness, sequel or psalm. The little street wenches,
HAVE you ever been down to my co… Where the trees are green and tall… The days are long and the heavens… But the people there are small. There is no work there; it is alwa…
The bird is my neighbour, a whimsi… There is in the lake a nobility fa… The bird is a noble, he turns to t… And the ripples are thoughts comin… The bird is both ancient and excel…
Beauty imposes reverence in the S… Grave as the urge within the honey… It wounds us as we sing. Beauty is joy that stays not overl… Clad in the magic of sincerities,
A pleasant shady place it is, a pl… The township folk go up and down,… Along the river lies my world, a d… I sit and learn - I cannot go; th… But Granny she has seen the world…