Why are the sheoaks forever sighing? (Sheoaks that sigh when the wind is still), Why are the dead hopes forever dying? (Dead hopes that died and are with us still.) As you make it and what you will. ...
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,...
Two little girls aged six and nine, the daughters of a lengthsman on the railway at Walloon, near Ipswich, Queensland, were sent on an errand by their parents and it is supposed they were attracted by some water-lilies in a poo...
The camp of high-class spielers, Who sneered in summer dress, And doo-dah dilettante, And scornful 'venuses', House agents, and storekeepers, All eager they to 'bleed', The bards who tackled Manly,...
'Tis a legend of the bushmen from the days of Cunningham, When he opened up the country and the early squatters came. Tis the old tale of a fortune missed by men who did seek,...
The breezes waved the silver grass, Waist-high along the siding, And to the creek we ne'er could pass Three boys on bare-back riding; Beneath the sheoaks in the bend The waterhole was brimming,...
In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal, There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel; Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old,...
Out there by the rocks, at the end of the bank, In the mouth of the river, the Wanderer sank. She is resting where meet the blue water and green, And only her masts and her funnel are seen;...
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,...
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 old Jimmy Woodser comes into the bar Unwelcomed, unnoticed, unknown, Too old and too odd to be drunk with, by far; So he glides to the end where the lunch baskets are And they say that he tipples alone....