The Cambaroora Star (Henry Lawson Poem)
So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy ...
So you're writing for a paper? Well, it's nothing very new To be writing yards of drivel for a tidy ...
All summer I heard them rustling in the shrubbery, outracing me from tier to tier in my garden, a whisper ...
Watching the violence, helpless an ache for a whole people convulsing in revolution living in the maelstrom Defiant and courageous ...
Stand in the storms of life resolute, defiant confident in the promise of God to never leave us to stand ...
standing when we should the world in the breach confronting the giant with our lives much that we can teach ...
The boy, the youngest, only a young child too little to don the armor the metal of the king Standing ...
What could they say, what could they do to silence these men, untrained, ordinary men they who walked with Christ ...
The Moon upon her fluent Route Defiant of a Road -- The Star's Etruscan Argument Substantiate a God -- If ...
A wild Blue sky abreast of Winds That threatened it -- did run And crouched behind his Yellow Door Was ...
I The roaring of Te Whaiau intake weir intrudes as sleep eludes again to soar across the lake on white-tipped, ...
Lo! I am come to autumn, When all the leaves are gold; Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out The ...
What is Africa to me: Copper sun or scarlet sea, Jungle star or jungle track, Strong bronzed men, or regal ...
The ewes crowd to the mangers; Their bellies widen, sag; Their udders tighten. Soon The little voices cry In morning ...
Because the rhymes I make for raiment Fail to avail its meed of payment, I fain must make my well-worn ...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant; Wail of the pines and a wind with the ...
I Flat as a drum-head stretch the haggard snows; The mighty skies are palisades of light; The stars are blurred; ...
Today your things depart. Your faience cup fell off the table at sunrise and cracked. Your old grey dog did ...
Richard Pigott, the forger, was a very bad man, And to gainsay it there's nobody can, Because for fifty years ...
Oh, you young radicals and dreamers, You dauntless fledglings Who pass by my headstone, Mock not its record of my ...
"I'd rather make $700 a week playing a maid than earn $7 a day being a maid". Hattie McDaniel. I'm ...
wade through black jade. Of the crow-blue mussel-shells, one keeps adjusting the ash-heaps; opening and shutting itself like an injured ...
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