#Australians #Lesbian #Women
One comes to love the little saint… As years go by. One learns to love the little sain… ‘O hear me sigh, St. Anthony,
Dearest, dearest, Bother the slow hours That hold and keep me From the leafy bowers You make more lovely than a storm…
Sometimes I lose My power of loving for an hour or… Then I misuse My knowledge of friends’ secrets t… Them far more heartily than others…
Last night, in a dream, I felt th… Known to me of old; And there passed me, not much chan… Smiling, suffering, cold. This morning, I lay with closed l…
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…
This year I have seen autumn with… Glimpsed hitherto undreamt of myst… In the slow ripening of the town-b… Horse-chestnut lifting wide hands… And silver beech turned gold now w…
I do hate the folk I love– They hurt so. Their least word and act may be Source of woe. ‘Won’t you come to tea with me?’
At ten o’clock the great gong soun… Prelude to splendour. I push back… And all the people leave their boo… Still acquiescent, down the marble… Into the dark where we can’t read.…
Ay, ay, ay, the lilies of the gard… With red threads binding them and… These shall be her symbols, for sh… Holy in her maidenhood and very fu… Ay, ay, ay, for she is very girlis…
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…
O you, dear trees, you have learne… You must have studied this only th… Men have thought of God and laugh… And of love. And of song. But you, dear trees, from your bir…
They have a few little hours To study the world’ Its lovely absence of clouds, Or the thunderbolts hurled By hidden powers’
I am no mystic. All the ways of G… Are dark to me. I know not if he lived or if he di… In agony. My every act has reference to man.
Each day I sit in an ill-lighted… To teach a boy; For one hour by the clock great wo… Are our employ. We read St Agnes’ Eve and that m…
Today when you went up the hill And all that I could see Was just a speck of black and whit… Very far from me, It seemed more strange than words…