Poetry Books

THE DONG WITH A LUMINOUS NOSE. When awful darkness and silence reignOver the great Gromboolian plain,Through the long, long wintry nights; When the angry breakers roarAs they beat on the rocky shore;When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights Of the Hills of the Chankly Bore,— Then, through the vast and gloomy darkThere moves what seems a fiery spark,—A lonely spark with silvery rays Piercing... more...

SUPPRESSED POEMS. THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS. I chanced the other eve,—But how I ne'er will tell,—The paper to receive.That's published down in hell. In general one may guess,I little care to seeThis free-corps of the pressGot up so easily; But suddenly my eyesA side-note chanced to meet,And fancy my surpriseAt reading in the sheet:— "For twenty weary springs"(The post from... 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... more...

TheCities are full of pride,Challenging each to each—This from her mountain-side,That from her burthened beach.They count their ships full tale—Their corn and oil and wine,Derrick and loom and bale,And rampart's gun-flecked line;City by city they hail:"Hast aught to match with mine?"And the men that breed from themThey traffic up and down,But cling to their cities' hemAs a child to... 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... 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... more...

NAUGHTY PUPPIESTiny and his Parents.There were two little puppy dogs,“Tiny” named, and “Toodles,”Who got into all kinds of scrapes,Like little foolish noodles.Tiny was a brownish dog,And Toodles was a white one;And Tiny had a cunning eye,And Toodles had a bright one.Tiny played all kinds of tricks.For which his parents chid him:And Toodles did—poor, foolish pup—Whatever Tiny bid him.... more...

To One Who Sleeps (Obiit, June 8th, 1894.) Tho' storm and summer shine for long have shedOr blight or bloom above thy quiet bed,Tho' loneliness and longing cry thee dead—Thou art not dead, belovèd. Still with meAre whilom hopings that encompass theeAnd dreams of dear delights that may not be.Asleep—adream perchance, dost thou forgetThe sometime sorrow and the fevered fret,Sting of salt... more...

CANTO IX THE hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeksImprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,And inwardly restrain'd it.  He, as oneWho listens, stood attentive: for his eyeNot far could lead him through the sable air,And the thick-gath'ring cloud.  "It yet behoovesWe win this fight"—thus he began—"if not—Such aid to us... more...

PRELUDE Night on bleak downs; a high grass-grown trench runs athwart the slope. The earthwork is manned by warriors clad in hides. Two warriors, BRYS and GAST, talking. Gast.This puts a tall heart in me, and a tuneOf great glad blood flowing brave in my flesh,To see thee, after all these moons, returned,My Brys. If there's no rust in thy shoulder-joints,That battle-wrath of thine, and thy good... more...