The Star of Australasia (Henry Lawson Poem)
We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed ...
We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed ...
As the night was falling slowly down on city, town and bush, From a slum in Jones's Alley sloped the ...
The schools marched in procession in happiness and pride, The city bands before them, the soldiers marched beside; Oh, starched ...
(For Sara Teasdale) The lonely farm, the crowded street, The palace and the slum, Give welcome to my silent feet ...
This country nurtured hope decayed, The politician cruises on a 4WD guzzler, The thief. Feeling the base of his belly. ...
"Why shouldn't I have a purely vegetarian drink? Why shouldn't I take vegetables in their highest form, so to speak? ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
On the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain: The poor who come to Rio And can't ...
As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as ...
arrive. The Ladies from the Ladies' Betterment League Arrive in the afternoon, the late light slanting In diluted gold bars ...
The Spirit of the Unborn Babe peered through the window-pane, Peered through the window-pane that glowed like beacon in the ...
Worms finer for fishing you couldn't be wishing; I delved them dismayed from the velvety sod; The rich loam upturning ...
One of the Down and Out--that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare! Stare and shrink--say! you wouldn't think that ...
There's sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, ...
Sez I: My Country calls? Well, let it call. I grins perlitely and declines wiv thanks. Go, let 'em plaster ...
ONCE when I saw a cripple Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling ...
And I worked my way to the end, and I Was the head of the "Flying Gang". 'Twas a chosen ...
The hands of the clock were reaching high In an old midtown hotel; I name no name, but its sordid ...
I, too, have trailed my father's spirit From the mud-walled cabin behind the mountain Where he was born and bred, ...
A kite flutters, On a high tension wire - Against a stark blue sky. Beggar and old mother huddle On ...
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