Knocked Up (Henry Lawson Poem)
I'm lyin' on the barren ground that's baked and cracked with drought, And dunno if my legs or back or ...
I'm lyin' on the barren ground that's baked and cracked with drought, And dunno if my legs or back or ...
Seven men from all the world, back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give ...
I let myself in at the kitchen door. "It's you," she said. "I can't get up. Forgive me Not answering ...
When I was just a little boy, Before I went to school, I had a fleet of forty sail I ...
The Hunting The Bellman looked uffish, and wrinkled his brow. "If only you'd spoken before! It's excessively awkward to mention ...
Dedication Inscribed to a dear Child: in memory of golden summer hours and whispers of a summer sea. Girt with ...
You have heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred ...
A GUID New-year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie: Tho' thou's howe-backit now, an' ...
I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains, A fabled Muse may suit a bard that feigns: Friend of my ...
GUDEWIFE,I MIND it weel in early date, When I was bardless, young, and blate, An' first could thresh the barn, ...
THERE'S news, lassies, news, Gude news I've to tell! There's a boatfu' o' lads Come to our town to sell. ...
WHILE new-ca'd kye rowte at the stake An' pownies reek in pleugh or braik, This hour on e'enin's edge I ...
The Sun, who never stops to dine, Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line, And driving at his usual rate, ...
for Brenda Williams The dawn cracked with ice, with fire grumbling in the grate, With ire in the homes we ...
THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab. ...
In distant New Zealand, whose tresses of gold The billows are ceaselessly combing, Away in a village all tranquil and ...
I tell you that I see her still At the dark entrance of the hall. One gas lamp burning near ...
To go home and wear shorts forever in the enormous paddocks, in that warm climate, adding a sweater when winter ...
Why Brownlee left, and where he went, Is a mystery even now. For if a man should have been content ...
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, So Man, declining ...
Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise; So Man, declining ...
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