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465

Rantoul

© John Greenleaf Whittier

One day, along the electric wire
His manly word for Freedom sped;
We came next morn: that tongue of fire
Said only, "He who spake is dead!"

Yes, I got another Johnny; but he was to Number One
As a Satyr to Hyperion, as a rushlight to a sun;
He was lazy, he was cheeky, he was dirty he was sly,
But he had a single virtue, and its name was rabbit pie.

Autumn Evening

© Frances Darwin Cornford

THE SHADOWS flickering, the daylight dying,
And I upon the old red sofa lying,
The great brown shadows leaping up the wall,
The sparrows twittering; and that is all.

In Praise Of A Bride

© Confucius

Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
How rich its flowers, all gleaming bright!
This bride to her new home repairs;
Chamber and house she'll order right.

The White Witch

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Heaven help your home to-night,
MacCormac; for I know
A white witch woman is your bride:
You married for your woe.

The Broken - Down Squatter

© Anonymous

For the banks are all broken, they say,
And the merchants are all up a tree.
When the bigwigs are brought to the Bankruptcy Court,
What chance for a squatter like me.

The Yearly Distress; Or, Tithing-Time At Stock In Essex

© William Cowper

Come, ponder well, for 'tis no jest,
To laugh it would be wrong;
The troubles of a worthy priest
The burden of my song.

The Bush Beyond the Range

© Henry Lawson

FROM Crows Nest here by Sydney town

Where crows had nests of old

Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

Orion: But an understanding tacit.
You have prospered much since the day we met;
You were then a landless knight;
You now have honour and wealth, and yet
I never can serve you right.

When You Wake

© Mathilde Blind

When you wake from troubled slumbers

With a dream-bewildered brain,

The Kettle

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

There's many a house of grandeur,

With turret, tower and dome,

The Eavesdropper

© Bliss William Carman

The livelong day the elvish leaves
Danced with their shadows on the floor;
And the lost children of the wind
Went straying homeward by our door.

The Tram (In The Midlands)

© Robert Laurence Binyon

III
A boy with a bunch of primroses!
He sits uneasy, flushed of cheek,
With wandering eyes and does not speak:
His hands are hot; the flowers are his.

The North Star

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I was contented with the warm silence,
Sitting by the fire, book on knee;
And fancy uncentred, afloat and astray,
Idled from thought to thought

Lachin Y Gair

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye garden of roses!
In you let the minions of luxury rove;
Restore me to the rocks, where the snowflake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:

Mondnacht (Moonlit Night)

Es war, als hätt der Himmel
Die Erde still geküßt,
Daß sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müßt.

The Negro's Complaint

Forc'd from home and all its pleasures,

Afric's coast I left forlorn;

Evening

Still, my heart, now sets the sun,
While the moor is resting,
Herds now homeward are begun,
And the stork is nesting.
Still, my heart, now sets the sun.

The Mother Watch

She never closed her eyes in sleep till we were all in bed;
On party nights till we came home she often sat and read.
We little thought about it then, when we were young and gay,
How much the mother worried when we children were away.
We only knew she never slept when we were out at night,
And that she waited just to know that we'd come home all right.