#Australians #Lesbian #Women
I dreamt last night That spring had come. Across green fields I saw a blur Of crimson-blossomed plum. I’ve never known
Beauty does not walk through lovel… Beauty walks with horror in her ha… Down long centuries of pleasant wa… Men have found the terrible most f… Youth is lovelier in death than li…
When I was still a child I thought my love would be Noble, truthful, brave, And very kind to me. Then all the novels said
When I get up to light the fire, And dress with all the speed I ma… By candle-light, I dread the hour… That go to make a single day. But then I leave my room, and see
Today they made a bonfire Close to the cherry tree And smoke like incense drifted Through the white tracery. I think the gardener really
I like the riders Clad in rose and blue; Their colours glitter And their horses too. Swift go the riders
I saw a flight of sparrows through… Oh, let us rise Out of the weaknesses of our despa… To burning skies. Let us take wings for flight from…
We watched the dawn breaking acros… While just above us hung the eveni… The nearer waters took a hint of w… And clouds and waves together mass… Narrowed our morning world of pall…
O little plum tree in the garden,… Aflower again, With memories of a million springs… Brief years of pain. O little tree, you have the power…
He has picked grapes in the sun.… Like a fairy tale, Like a tale of dreams. ‘He in his slender youth, with vin… Under a blazing sky’—
Sometimes I think God has his day… For being friends. He says: 'Forgive my careless way… No one pretends I’m always kind; but for today
I have to make a soul for one Who lost his soul in childhood’s h… And I’m not sure’not really sur… If I have power. I don’t know whether souls are mad…
And is love very strong where hono… Would the world ever speak of Lan… Or Tristram’s love had they put h… What would you think if Guinevere… And begged for kisses and had begg…
O great golden head lie in my lap, Sweet, sweet, lie there. Sleep and I’ll watch thee lest ev… Sweet, sweet and fair. O great golden head lie on my brea…
The strike’s done. The men won. The ships sail the sea To bring back What we lack,