Song of the Old Bullock-Driv (Henry Lawson Poems)
Far back in the days when the blacks used to ramble In long single file 'neath the evergreen tree,The wool-teams in ...
Far back in the days when the blacks used to ramble In long single file 'neath the evergreen tree,The wool-teams in ...
walkingin the eveningalong the banksof the creek, as the sky is lighted by the glowfrom the hothouses, farther on the ...
my lover is not that handsomeand he has quite a temperbut who will paint my skyin the dark afternoon purpleif ...
The chickadee in the appletreetalks all the time very gently.He makes me sleepy.I rock away to the sea-lights.far off I ...
Summer smells like linden.Orchards along the road rustle.Downwind you can smellThe honey melted linden.Two beesGather honey from the appletree.Summer smels ...
Gazing upon the toiling seas,In gloomy rows the silent captives sate;And as the ship rode off before the breeze,They murmured ...
ISweet appletree, your branches delight me, Luxuriantly budding my pride and joy! I will put before the lord of Macreu, ...
O'Shea was a big railway ganger, clean-hearted, and clean-limbed and shy,With a glint of grey hair at his temples, and ...
The garden scatters burnt-up beetles Like brazen ash, from braziers burst. I witness, by my lighted candle, A newly blossomed ...
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady's slipper. Your ...
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