Wake up, sweet melody! Now is the hour When young and loving hearts Feel most thy power, One note of music, by moonlight's soft ray-- Oh, 'tis worth thousands heard coldly by day....
John. I'm glad I walk'd. How fresh the meadows look Above the river, and, but a month ago, The whole hill-side was redder than a fox. Is yon plantation where this byway joins The turnpike?...
Oh! there once was a swagman camped in a Billabong, Under the shade of a Coolabah tree; And he sang as he looked at his old billy boiling, "Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?" ...
Wandering at morn, Emerging from the night, from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee, harmonious Union! thee, Singing Bird divine!...
"Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!" Jeemses Rivers! won't some one ever shet that howl o' his? That-air yellin' drives me wild! Cain't none of ye stop the child?...
Rich, honored by my fellow citizens, The father of many children, born of a noble mother, All raised there In the great mansion - house, at the edge of town. Note the cedar tree on the lawn!...
Gold of the tangled wilderness of wattle, Break in the lone green hollows of the hills, Flame on the iron headlands of the ocean, Gleam on the margin of the hurrying rills. ...
'Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind; 'Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays; 'Heavy is woe; and joy, for human-kind, 'A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!'...
Wearies my love of my letters? Does she my silence command? Sunders she Love's rosy fetters As though they were woven of sand? Tires she too of each token Indited with many a sigh?...
Weave in! weave in, my hardy life! Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come; Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight weave in!...
At night, with shaded eyes, the summer moon In tender meditation downward glances At the dark earth, far-set in dim expanses, And, welcomer than blazoned gold of noon,...
Weep not too much, my darling; Sigh not too oft for me; Say not the face of Nature Has lost its charm for thee. I have enough of anguish In my own breast alone;...
'At last he is dead' So the wondering, horror-struck neighbours said, A skilful touch of his knife Has cut the thread of a wasted life He has reached the end of the downward road,...
We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon. November glooms are barren beside the dusk of June. The summer flowers are faded, the summer thoughts are sere....