Works

It is well when you've lived in clover,
To mourn for the days gone by,
Would I live the same life over
Could I live again? Not I!
But, knowing the false from the real,
I would strive to ascend:...

She's milking in the rain and dark,
As did her mother in the past.
The wretched shed of poles and bark,
Rent by the wind, is leaking fast.
She sees the 'home-roof' black and low,...

Our Andy's gone to battle now
'Gainst Drought, the red marauder;
Our Andy's gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.

He's left us in dejection now;
Our hearts with him are roving....

Oh, this is a song of the old lights, that came to my heart like a hymn;
And this is a song for the old lights, the lights that we thought grew dim,
That came to my heart to comfort me, and I pass it along to you;...

By right of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth...

Oh, do you hear the argument, far up above the skies?
The voice of old Saint Peter, in expostulation rise?
Growing shrill, and ever shriller, at the thing that's being done;...

They cheered him from the wharf, it was a glorious day:
His hand went to his scarf, his thoughts were far away.
Oh, he was 'Jolly Good', they sang it long and loud,...

A long farewell to Genoa
That rises to the skies,
Where the barren coast of Italy
Like our own coastline lies.
A sad farewell to Genoa,
And long my heart shall grieve,
The only city in the world...

If they missed my face in Farmers' Arms
When the landlord lit the lamp,
They would grin and say in their country way,
'Oh! he's down at the Gipsy camp!'
But they'd read of things in the Daily Mail...

To my fellow sinners all, who, in hope and doubt,
Through the Commonwealth to-night watch the Old Year out,
New Year's Resolutions are jerry-built I know,
But I want to say to you, 'Give yourselves a show'.
...

No one lives in Golden Gully, for its golden days are o'er,
And its clay shall never sully blucher-boots of diggers more,
For the diggers long have vanished, nought but broken shafts remain,...

I hate the pen, the foolscap fair,
The poet's corner, and the page,
For Grief and Death are written there,
In every land and every age.
The poets sing and play their parts,...

The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;...

He has notions of Australia from the tales that he's been told,
Land of leggings and revolvers, land of savages and gold;
So he begs old shirts, and someone patches up his worn-out duds....

He's gone to England for a wife
Among the ladies there;
And yet I know a lass he deemed
The rarest of the rare.
He's gone to England for a wife;
And rich and proud is he....

Arming down along the stream,
Along the sparkling water,
And past the pool where lilies gleam,
There comes the squatter's daughter.

Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm;...

Said Grenfell to my spirit, "You've been writing very free
Of the charms of other places, and you don't remember me.
You have claimed another native place and think it's Nature's law,...

Now this is a rhyme that might well be carried
Gummed in your hat till the end of things:
Say Good-bye when your chum is married;
Say Good-bye while the church-bell rings;...

Where shall we go for prophecy? Where shall we go for proof?
The holiday street is crowded, pavement, window and roof;
Band and banner pass by us, and the old tunes rise and fall,...

You wonder why so many would be buried in the sea,
In this world of froth and bubble,
But I don't wonder, for it seems to me
That it saves such a lot of trouble.
And there ain't no undertaker,...