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I. THE GLUG QUEST Follow the river and cross the ford,Follow again to the wobbly bridge,Turn to the left at the notice board,Climbing the cow-track over the ridge;Tip-toe soft by the little red house,Hold your breath if they touch the latch,Creep to the slip-rails, still as a mouse,Then . . . run like mad for the bracken patch.Worm your way where the fern fronds tallFashion a lace-work over your head,Hemming you in with a high, green wall;Then,... more...

Foreword My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows it is bad. "The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever attempted to sketch, not even excepting my own beloved... more...

Scraping across the beach the boats were launched,And as they touched the waves, they seemed to takeNew shape and dignity with that caressOf little lapping ripples round the prow.Uhila led the fleet as one who knewHis right by reason of his age and skill.The little isle seemed now a sleeping maidKirtled in green, the beach her snowy breastVeined with the purple brooks that sought the sea.Uhila watched it fade below the blue,Crouched in the bow,... more...

Biographical Note Henry Kendall was the first Australian poet to draw his inspiration from the life, scenery and traditions of the country. In the beginnings of Australian poetry the names of two other men stand with his—Adam Lindsay Gordon, of English parentage and education, and Charles Harpur, born in Australia a generation earlier than Kendall. Harpur's work, though lacking vitality, shows fitful gleams of poetic fire suggestive of... more...

TWO ABORIGINAL SONGS I Korindabria, korindabria, bogarona, bogarona. Iwariniangiwaringdo, iwariniang, iwaringdo, iwariniang, iwaringdo,iwariniang, iwaringdo, iwaringime. Iwaringiang, iwaringdoo,ilanenienow, coombagongniengowe, ilanenienow, coombagongniengowe,ilanenienowe combagoniengowe, ilanenienimme. II Buddha-buddharo nianga, boomelana, bulleranga, crobinea,narnmala, yibbilwaadjo nianga, boomelana, a, boomelana,buddha-buddharo, nianga,... more...


Contents with First Lines: PreludeI have gathered these stories afar,The Man from Snowy RiverThere was movement at the station, for the word had passed aroundOld Pardon, the Son of ReprieveYou never heard tell of the story?Clancy of the OverflowI had written him a letter which I had, for want of betterConroy's GapThis was the way of it, don't you know —Our New HorseThe boys had come back from the racesAn Idyll of DandalooOn Western plains,... more...

Song of the Pen Not for the love of women toil we, we of the craft,Not for the people's praise;Only because our goddess made us her own and laughed,Claiming us all our days,Claiming our best endeavour—body and heart and brainGiven with no reserve—Niggard is she towards us, granting us little gain;Still, we are proud to serve.Not unto us is given choice of the tasks we try,Gathering grain or chaff;One of her favoured servants toils at... more...

Rio Grande's Last Race Now this was what Macpherson toldWhile waiting in the stand;A reckless rider, over-bold,The only man with hands to holdThe rushing Rio Grande.He said, 'This day I bid good-byeTo bit and bridle rein,To ditches deep and fences high,For I have dreamed a dream, and IShall never ride again.'I dreamt last night I rode this raceThat I to-day must ride,And cant'ring down to take my placeI saw full many an old friend's faceCome... more...

IN MEMORIAM. (A. L. Gordon.) At rest! Hard by the margin of that seaWhose sounds are mingled with his noble verse,Now lies the shell that never more will houseThe fine, strong spirit of my gifted friend.Yea, he who flashed upon us suddenly,A shining soul with syllables of fire,Who sang the first great songs these lands can claimTo be their own; the one who did not seemTo know what royal place awaited himWithin the Temple of the Beautiful,Has... more...

To an Old Mate Old Mate! In the gusty old weather,When our hopes and our troubles were new,In the years spent in wearing out leather,I found you unselfish and true —I have gathered these verses togetherFor the sake of our friendship and you.You may think for awhile, and with reason,Though still with a kindly regret,That I've left it full late in the seasonTo prove I remember you yet;But you'll never judge me by their treasonWho profit by... more...