#AustralianWriters
PART I Queen Hilda rode along the lines, And she was young and fair; And forward on her shoulders fell The heavy braids of hair:
I cannot blame old Israel yet, For I am not a sage— I shall not know until I get The son of my old age. The mysteries of this Vale of Tea…
The Plains lay bare on the homewa… And the march was heavy on man and… For the Spirit of Drought was on… And the white heat danced on the g… The best of our cattle-dogs lagged…
I met Jack Ellis in town to-day— Jack Ellis—my old mate, Jack— Ten years ago, from the Castlerea… We carried our swags together away To the Never-Again, Out Back.
Drums of all that’s right and wron… And the new-born baby hears them a… Drums of all that is to be, and al… And we hear them when we’re dreami… Drums of martyred innocence and dr…
A public parlour in the slums, The haunt of vice and villainy, Where things are said unfit to hea… And things are done unfit to see; ’Mid ribald jest and reckless song…
They took dead Cromwell from his… And stuck his head on high; The Merry Monarch and his men, They laughed as they passed by The common people cheered and jeer…
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…
Old time is tramping close to-day—… A mighty change is on the way, an’… Some dust’ll fly from beery coats—… I’m glad that wimin has the votes—… I’m just a trifle scared—For why?…
We, three men of commerce, Striving wealth to raise, See but little promise In the coming days; Though our hearts are brittle,
I cannot blame old Israel yet, For I am not a sage, I shall not know until I get The son of my old age. The mysteries of this Vale of Tea…
A dusty clearing in the scrubs Of barren, western lands— Where, out of sight, or sign of ho… The wretched school-house stands; A roof that glares at glaring days…
The Russian march is soft and slo… Through dust and heat, or slush an… When the Russian skies hang grey… To the frontiers far where the Ru… And they march to-night and they m…
They’d parted but a year before—sh… She stammer’d, blushed, held out h… How could he know that all the whi… He called her ‘Miss le Brook,’ an… They’d parted but a year before; t…
Where the seasons are divided and… and the links are rather broken in… where the atmosphere is hazy under… lies the little town of Eton, rath… Near the township, in the graveyar…