`For’ard’ (Henry Lawson Poems)
It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep,For there's near a hundred for'ard, and they're stowed away like ...
It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep,For there's near a hundred for'ard, and they're stowed away like ...
THE terrible wind, the dangerous storm, iswrestling with a ship on the ocean ; it is tryingto break her, but ...
HAIL , falling shades! hail, stillest ev'ning hour!Sacred to verse; and thou sublimest power,Imagination! thou, while slumber lightLays me to ...
Set me back for twenty summers- For I'm tired of cities now-Set my feet in red-soil furrows And my hands upon the ...
There were ten of us there on the moonlit quay, And one on the for'ard hatch;No straighter mate to his mates ...
You wonder why so many would be buried in the sea,In this world of froth and bubble,But I don't wonder, ...
So, sit you down in a straight-backed chair, with your pipe and your wife content,And cross your knees with your ...
He saw it last of all before they herded in the steerage,Dark against the sunset where he lingered by the ...
I'll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town;Don't look into a good girl's eyes, until you've ...
Over that morn hung heaviness, until,Near sunless noon, we heard the ship's bell beatingA melancholy staccato on dead metal;Saw the ...
I. It is a repose in the light, neither fever nor languor, on a bed or on a meadow. It ...
He reached the graveyard, - grass, death, oblivion,- He who had noticed how the world goes on. It must have ...
How distant, the departure of young men Down valleys, or watching The green shore past the salt-white cordage Rising and ...
It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep, For there's near a hundred for'ard, and they're stowed away ...
He had offices in Sydney, not so many years ago, And his shingle bore the legend `Peter Anderson and Co.', ...
By Lawson's Hill, near Mudgee, On old Eurunderee - The place they called "New Pipeclay", Where the diggers used to ...
And they heard the tent-poles clatter, And the fly in twain was torn - 'Tis the soiled rag of a ...
I'll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town; Don't look into a good girl's eyes, until ...
TO mute and to material things New life revolving summer brings; The genial call dead Nature hears, And in her ...
As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew From nature, I believe 'em true: They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault ...
I am a poet of the Hudson River and the heights above it, the lights, the stars, and the bridges ...
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