If I ever be worthy or famous, Which I'm sadly beginning to doubt, When the angel whose place 'tis to name us Shall say to my spirit, 'Pass out!' I wish for no sniv'lling about me...
The Lady of the Motor-car she stareth straight ahead; Her face is like the stone, my friend, her face is like the dead; Her face is like the stone, my friend, because she is 'well-bred',...
In the days that will be olden after many years are gone, Ere the world emerged from darkness floating out into the dawn, On a mountain rising steeply from the depth of marsh and wood...
They were hanging men in Buckland who would not cheer King George, The parson from his pulpit and the blacksmith from his forge; They were hanging men and brothers, and the stoutest heart was down,...
Are you coming, Ivan, coming?, Ah, the ways are long and slow, In the vast land that we know not, and we never sought to know. We are watching through the daybreak, when the anxious night is done,...
I would never waste the hours Of the time that is mine own, Writing verses about flowers For their own sweet sakes alone; Gushing as a schoolgirl gushes Over babies at their best,...
When God's wrath-cloud is o'er me, Affrighting heart and mind; When days seem dark before me, And days seem black behind; Those friends who think they know me, Who deem their insight keen,...
There's a class of men (and women) who are always on their guard, Cunning, treacherous, suspicious, feeling softly, grasping hard, Brainy, yet without the courage to forsake the beaten track,...
I have sinned, like others, blindly, without thought and without fear, And my best friends say it kindly, 'You should go away from here.' Shall I fly the paltry spirit of a narrow little town,...
There'll be royal times in Sydney for the Cuff and Collar Push, There'll be lots of dreary drivel and clap-trap From the men who own Australia, but who never knew the Bush,...
'Tis the song of many husbands, and you all must understand That you cannot call me coward now that women rule the land; I have written much for women, where I thought that they were right,...
The men who camp with Danger Are mostly quiet men: And one may use a rifle, And one may use a pen, And one may strap a camera In deserts to his bike; But men who sleep with Danger...
They were men of many nations, they were men of many stations, They were men in many places, and of high and low degree; Men of many types and faces, but, alike in all the races,...
The motor car is sullen, like a thing that should not be; The motor car is master of Smart Society. 'Twas born of sweated genius and collared by a clown; 'Twas planned by Retribution to ride its riders down....
He works in the glen where the waratah grows, And the gums and the ashes are tall, 'Neath cliffs that re-echo the sound of his blows When the wedges leap in from the mawl. ...
The rooster is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest, The hen's an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best; She'll flutter, cackling, anywhere save through a gate or door,...
Old coach-road West by Nor'-ward, Old mile-tree by the track: A dead branch pointing forward, And a dead branch pointing back. And still in clear-cut romans On his hard heart he tells...
It has a 'point' of neither sex But comes in guise of both, And, doubly dangerous complex, It is a thing to loathe, A lady with her sweet, sad smile, A gentleman on oath. ...