The Bush (Bernard O Dowd Poems)
I wonder if the spell, the mystery,That like a haze about your silence clings,Moulding your void until we seem to ...
I wonder if the spell, the mystery,That like a haze about your silence clings,Moulding your void until we seem to ...
Where is Australia, singer, do you know? These sordid farms and joyless factories, Mephitic mines and lanes of pallid woe? ...
Come Jack, our place is with the ruckOn the open road today,Not with the tepid "footpath sneak"Or with the wise ...
Black drips the ooze that you secrete on allThat Honour's burin graves or Love holds dear:At sacrifice you laugh, at ...
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