#AustralianWriters
The future was dark and the past w… As they gazed on the sea once more… But a nation was born when the imm… ‘Good-bye!’ as they stepped ashore… In their loneliness they were part…
It’s oh! for a rivet in marriage b… And a splice in the knot untied— The sanctity of the marriage tie Is growing more sanctified! They’re getting mixed up in societ…
A day of seeming innocence, A glorious sun and sky, And, just above my picket fence, Black Bonnet passing by. In knitted gloves and quaint old d…
Ben Boyd’s Tower is watching— Watching o’er the sea; Ben Boyd’s Tower is waiting For her and me. We do not know the day,
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and bla… And bury me deep down below, Where this piffle and sham won’t d… In the land where the coolibahs gr… For I’ve stayed with some well-to…
Down here where the ships loom lar… The gloom when the sea-storms veer… Down here on the south-west margin Of the western hemisphere, Where the might of a world-wide oc…
Old Mate! In the gusty old weath… When our hopes and our troubles we… In the years spent in wearing out… I found you unselfish and true— I have gathered these verses toget…
‘this a wonderful time when these… These long ’small hours’ of night, When grass is crisp, and the air i… And the stars come close and brigh… The moon hangs caught in a silvery…
No church-bell rings them from the… No pulpit lights theirblindness— 'Tis hardship, drought, and homele… That teach those Bushmen kindness… The mateship born, in barren lands…
The short hour’s halt is ended, The red gone from the west, The broken wheel is mended, And the dead men laid to rest. Three days have we retreated
'Tis the song of many husbands, an… That you cannot call me coward now… I have written much for women, whe… But the men who made bad matches c… Oh, the men who made bad matches a…
Ten miles down Reedy River A pool of water lies, And all the year it mirrors The changes in the skies. Within that pool’s broad bosom
There’s many a schoolboy’s bat and… For he hears a voice in the future… A serious light in his eyes is see… He keeps his kit and his rifle cle… But straight or crooked, or round,…
’Tis glorious morning everywhere Save where the alleys lie— I see the fleecy steam jets bid “Good morning” to the sky. The gullies of the waratah
’Tis no tale of heroism, ’tis no t… But of ordinary boozing, and of du… Of the everlasting friction that m… Tale of nagging and of drinking—an… Name of Jones—perhaps you know hi…