The Spirits of Our Fathers (Henry Lawson Poems)
THE SPIRITS of our fathers rise not from every wave,They left the sea behind them long ago;It was many years ...
THE SPIRITS of our fathers rise not from every wave,They left the sea behind them long ago;It was many years ...
Now sheath'd is the Sword that was wild as the blast:The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past;Old ALBION her ...
Fytte IBy Wood and Wold"Beneath the greenwood bough." — W. Scott.Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows, Though ...
When Father Time swings round his scythe, Entomb me 'neath the bounteous vine,So that its juices, red and blithe, May ...
Oh, 'tis sweet, when fields are ringing With the merry cricket's singing, Oft to mark with curious eye ...
When Father Time swings round his scythe, Entomb me 'neath the bounteous vine, So that its juices, red and blithe, ...
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