#Australians
The awful seers of old who wrote,… Like drops of blood, great thought… Of ages burn, as eyes of lions lig… Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with… The soul of man on its most secret…
A child came singing through the d… A song so sweet that all men staye… Forgetting for a space their ancie… Of evil days and death and fortune… She sang of Winter dead and Sprin…
THE old dead flowers of bygone su… The old sweet songs that are no mo… The rose-red dawns that were welco… When you and I and the world were… Are lost, O love, to the light fo…
What! Don’t you our Mæcenas kno… The man who started, years ago, Our Wild Australian Author show? You don’t? Your ignorance sublim… Exceeds– to use a Boston rhyme –
They leave us– artists, singers, a… When London calls aloud, Commanding to her Festival The gifted crowd. She sits beside the ship-choked T…
Half waking and half dreaming, While starry lamps hung low I saw a vision splendid Upon the darkness glow. The Capital Australian,
O THE Queen may keep her golden Crown and sceptre of command! I would give them both twice over To be King of Babyland. Sure, it is a wondrous country
When trees in Spring Are blossoming My lady wakes From dreams whose light Made dark days bright,
IT MAY have been a fragment of t… Truth dreams, at times, disclose; It may have been to Fond Illusion… But thus the story goes: A fierce sun glared upon a gaunt l…
’TIS said that the Passion Flowe… With its figures of spear and swor… And hammer and nails, is a symbol Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord. So still in the Heart of Beauty
When the tender hand of Night Like a rose-leaf falls Softly on your starry eyes; When the Sleep-God calls, And the gate of dreams is wide,
LO, upon the carpet, where Throned upon a heap of slain Blue-eyed dolls of beauty rare (Ah, they pleaded all in vain!) Sits the Infant Tamerlane!
Dedicated to Louis Becke You are now in London town, Louis Becke, Keeping up your old renown, Writing yarns of women brown,
Love is the sunlight of the soul, That, shining on the silken-tressÃ… Of her we love, around it seems to… A golden angel-aureole. And all her ways seem sweeter ways
Choose who will the wiser part— I have held her heart to heart; And have felt her heart-strings st… And her soul’s still singing heard For one golden-haloed hour