Estuary (Gwen Harwood Poems)
To Rex HobcroftWind crosshatches shallow water.Paddocks rest in the sea's arm.Swamphens race through spiky grass.A wire fence leans, a crazy ...
To Rex HobcroftWind crosshatches shallow water.Paddocks rest in the sea's arm.Swamphens race through spiky grass.A wire fence leans, a crazy ...
IN the old Hebrew myth the lion's frame,So terrible alive,Bleached by the desert's sun and wind, becameThe wandering wild bees' ...
I: PalacesA Wall of sod, a roof of thatch,And naked turf the floor;And winds, unchallenged and unbarred,Go in and out ...
THROUGH golden languors of low glimmering light,Deep eyes, o'erbrimmed with passion's sacred wine,Heart-perfumed tears--yearning towards me, shineLike stars made lovelier ...
THE dreamer cried, ((Oh, that it once were mineO build a song that should defy the years-One that should lift ...
And then came Science with her torch red-litAnd cosmic marvels round her glowing head-The primal cell, the worm, the quadruped-Striving ...
I.Fallen the lofty halls, where vassal crowds Drank in the dawn of Gertrude's natal day. The dungeon roof an ...
You say there's a Being all-loving, Whose nature is justice and pity; Could you say where you ...
Put by the sword (a dreamer saith), The years of peace draw nigh! Already the millennial dawn Makes red the ...
I. O HEART of man! be humble, nor disdain The latest gospel preached beneath the sun; Learn of the brute ...
Who in the splendour of a simple thought,Whether for England or her enemies,Went in the night, and in the morning ...
For one carved instant as they flew,The language had no simile-Silver, crystal, ivoryWere tarnished. Etched upon the horizon blue,The frieze ...
When the Great Ark, in Vigo Bay, Rode stately through the half-manned fleet, From every ship about her way She ...
Let us admit it fairly, as a business people should, We have had no end of a lesson: it will ...
Until thy feet have trod the Road Advise not wayside folk, Nor till thy back has borne the Load Break ...
That sacred Closet when you sweep -- Entitled "Memory" -- Select a reverential Broom -- And do it silently. 'Twill ...
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, Whom Arthur and his knighthood called ...
Oh the wife she tried to tell me that 'twas nothing but the thrumming Of a wood-pecker a-rapping on the ...
Though not for common praise of him, Nor yet for pride or charity, Still would I make to Vanderberg One ...
I We thrill too strangely at the master's touch; We shrink too sadly from the larger self Which for its ...
To go home and wear shorts forever in the enormous paddocks, in that warm climate, adding a sweater when winter ...
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