#AustralianWriters
You argue ' as sympathy governs… That Wisdom distributes the capon… Indulging the sinful, and stinting… Or starving the wicked, and fatten… You are wrong to the Evil One; he…
Johnny’s drowned ' here’s his cl… Where he’s got to, we dunno; Sure enough, he never rose; So we thought we’d let you know. Gosh! the fright has knocked us fl…
O kid! with face of healthy tan, With lunch-bag, books and slate; You needn’t long to be a man, Self-confident and great; For ever since the world began
“Are you the Cove?” He spoke the… As freeman only can. The squatter freezingly inquir’d, “What do you mean, my man?” “Are you the Cove?” His voice was…
A gentle loving thoughtful boy, But happy gay and bright: A gleam of sunshine from the sky That filled a home with light. And whether busied with his play
O Time! Time! Time! Thou wondrous mystery! Within whose rune and rhyme Lies all Man’s history Before Creation’s birth
Though some good folks may take it… As trifling with parsonic frill, Thus saith the Lord to Jim and B… In admonition stern and straight:— Ye hold from Me the brightest zon…
(From ‘An Idyll of the Wimmera.’… On the geodetic line, where the pa… At a level and interminable lane You can see it there, alone, stand… Like an iceberg in a solitary main…
Sing the evil days we see, and the… In such doggerel as dejection will… We are pilgrims, sorrow-led, with… No elysian Up the Country for us… For the settlements extend till th…
When the great Creator fashion’d… He commission’d us to dominate the… But His ordinance meets denial st… For the Boer is always with us, c… Yet the Lord has given us grace t…
(A Romance.) December 11th, 1867. The fleecy clouds had passed away Before the bright approach of day, And now the morning’s radiance shi…
Tell me not in future numbers That our thought becomes inane, That our metre halts and lumbers, When the Wattle blooms again. Lies of great men all remind us
In spite of his imposing plea, A freeman whom the truth makes fre… Is often fairly up a tree, And marvels why it should be thus. Then reasoning in his tin-pot way
Life is a Poem, short or long, A dismal Dirge, or jovial Song, A Psalm of faith, or Lay of Prid… One stanza by each year supplied. And thy sweet Hymn of love and tr…
Would I were a profit monger, Buying cheap, and selling dear, Groceries, or something stronger, Toys, or pipes, or sporting gear, Wrong, maybe, but ain’t it wronger