#AustralianWriters
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…
He has the full moon on his breast… The moonbeams are about hs wing; He has the colours of a king. I see him floating unto rest When all eyes wearily go west,
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…
ALL singers have shadows That follow like fears, But I know a singer Who never saw tears; A gay love—a green love—
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…
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—
QUIETLY as rosebuds Talk to thin air, Love came so lightly I knew not he was there. Quietly as lovers
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…
YOU, AND YELLOW AIR by Jo… I dream of an old kissing-time And the flowered follies there; In the dim place of cherry-trees, Of you, and yellow air.
I would be dismal with all the fin… But I can talk plainly to you, yo… Here in the heart of September th… Of the hot happy sound of the shea… Soon would I tire of all riches o…
Let your song be delicate. The skies declare No war—the eyes of lovers Wake everywhere. Let your voice be delicate.
When he was old and thin And knew not night or day He would sit up to say Something of the fire within. How woefully his chin
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…
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?