Works

You say we bushmen cannot love,
Our lives are too prosaic: hence
We lose or lack that finer sense
That raises some few men above
Their fellows, setting them apart
As vessels of a finer make,...

I've a kiss from a warmer lover
Than maiden earth can be:
She blew it up to the skies above her,
And now it has come to me;
From the far-away it has come today
With a breath of the old salt sea.
...

Drip, drip, drip! It tinkles on the fly
The pitiless outpouring of an overburdened sky:
Each drooping frond of pine has got a jewel at its tip
First a twinkle, then a sprinkle, and a drip, drip, drip.
...

What made the porter stare so hard? what made the porter stare
And eye the tall young woman and the bundle that she bare?

What made the tall young woman flush, and strive to hide her face,...

A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall,
And a message: 'Come out to the back of the run
Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun!
Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay:...

Diamantina River, Western Queensland


The first flush of grey light, the herald of daylight,
Is dimly outlining the musterer's camp,
Where over the sleeping, the stealthily creeping...

Yes, there it hangs upon the wall
And never gives a sound,
The hand that trimmed its greenhide fall
Is hidden underground,
There, in that patch of sally shade,
Beneath that grassy mound.
...

Kelly the Ranger half opened an eye
To wink at the Army passing by,
While his hot breath, thick with the taint of beer,
Came forth from his lips in a drunken jeer.
Brown and bearded and long of limb...

Our Skeeta was married, our Skeeta! the tomboy and pet of the place,
No more as a maiden we'd greet her, no more would her pert little face
Light up the chill gloom of the parlour; no more would her deft little hands...

Long time beside the squatter's gate
A great grey Box-Tree, early, late,
Or shine or rain, in silence there
Had stood and watched the seasons fare:
Had seen the wind upon the plain...

(A Legend of Kiandra)


The snow lies deep on hill and dale,
In rocky gulch and grassy vale,
The tiny, trickling, tumbling falls
Are frozen 'twixt their rocky walls...

Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff,
Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind,
Just another shovelful and that'll be enough,
Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can find,...