Where is the painter who shall paint for you, My Austral brothers, with a pencil steeped In hues of Truth, the weather-smitten crew Who gazed on unknown shores a thoughtful few...
'Tis holy ground! The silent silver lights And darks undreamed of, falling year by year Upon his sleep, in soft Australian nights, Are joys enough for him who lieth here...
Dark days have passed, but you who taught me then To look upon the world with trustful eyes, Are not forgotten! Quick to sympathise With noble thoughts, I've dreamt of moments when...
There's music wafting on the air, The evening winds are sighing Among the trees and yonder stream Is mournfully replying, Lamenting loud the sunny light That in the west is dying. ...
Where the sinister sun of the Syrians beat On the brittle, bright stubble, And the camels fell back from the swords of the heat, Came Saul, with a fire in the soles of his feet, And a forehead of trouble....
When underneath the brown dead grass My weary bones are laid, I hope I shall not see the glass At ninety in the shade. I trust indeed that, when I lie Beneath the churchyard pine,...
That love of letters which is as the light Of deathless verse, intense, ineffable, Hath made this scholar's nature like the white, Pure Roman soul of whom the poets tell. ...