#AustralianWriters
North Country, filled with gestur… With trees that fence, like archer… The flanks of hidden valleys Where nothing’s left to hide But verticals and perpendiculars,
ADAM, because on the mind’s road… Your mouth is always in a hurry, Because you know odes And ways to make a curry, Because you fall in love with word…
At last I know’it’s on old iv… Glassed with old miniatures and ga… I’ve seen those eyes like smould… As carp might see them behind thei… In pale green fishponds’they’r…
THE smell of birds’ nests faintly… Is autumn. In the autumn I came Where spring had used me better, To the clear red pebbles and the m… And foundered beetles, to the brok…
TAKE your great light away, your… I’m off to feed myself as quick as… You’re perfectly impossible to com… I’m such a busy man. Good God, haven’t you got a circu…
(To the etchings of Norman Lindsa… Now the statues lean over each to… Gravely in warm plaster turning; t… The trees come suddenly to flower… The water-gardens to glassy fire,…
EARTH which has known so many pa… Of April air, so many marriages Of strange and lovely atoms breedi… Never may find again that lost del… In the sharp sky, the frosty deepn…
SMOKE upon smoke; over the stone… Of chimneys bleeding, a darker fum… Night, the old nun, in voiceless p… To kiss corruption, so fabulous he… All drowns in night. Even the laz…
MY words are the poor footmen of… Of what you cry, you trumpets, eac… With mouths of air; my speech is t… Of yours, the Roman tongue—but mi… By harsher bridles, dumb with brea…
After the whey-faced anonymity Of river-gums and scribbly-gums an… After the rubbing and the hit of b… You come to the South Country As if the argument of trees were d…
(To the memory of William Hickey,… COMING out of India with ten th… Exchanged for flesh and temper, a… Whose devil barters with digestion… For dipping his fingers in the Ro…
GOOD roaring pistol-boys, brave… Good roistering easy maids, blown… On floods of tavern-steam, I gree… With wild Canary, drowned in wine… I’ll swear your round, red faces d…
MUSIC, on the air’s edge, rides… Plumed like empastured Caesars of… With a god’s helmet; now, in the g… Of sunlight, the iron cloak, the… Melt to enchanted flesh—a voice is…
‘TALBINGO RIVER’as one say… ‘Captain’ or 'Commodore’ that sme… In old engagements no one quite be… Or understands. Talbingo had its… As they did, ran with waters huge…
‘BEES of old Spanish wine Pipe at this Inn to-night, Music and candleshine Fill the dim chambers . . . . ’Fans toss and ladies pace,