by Eva Mary O'Doherty Far off! far off! within the desert rude, In the cold heart of that deep solitude, Two magic letters on the rugged bark, With...

I want a situation as a shepherd, be it known, On a comfortable station--not too far from town; The country must be timberless, the waters full of...

by E.M. England    So softly I go that the heron Who waits downstream has not stirred. Perhaps he thinks me a bird; Thinks me a brown bird gliding The...

by Francis Kenna    My request was not requited, for an answer came indited On a sheet of scented paper, in an ink of fancy blue; And the envelope, I...

  He is long, he is lean, he is wiry; He is loose-limbed and carelessly hung; He is quick on the flare-up and fiery; He swears with an eloquent...

by Frank C Francis    The music and the laughter simmer down Like an ebbing tide that slinks into the dark, As the last bright firework splutters to a...

by Colin Bingham    My child's warm hand is such a thing That holding it I long to sing My faith in dark futurity My child's warm hand is such a thing...

by Lucille M Quinlan    Sleep, my birrahlee;1 hush, my soft grey dove! Misty grows the cane-field, purple the range above. From the scrub by the...

by Victor Kennedy    Queer little deep brown almond eyes Turned to me now with grave surprise What the secrets tarrying there Baffling a world's...

  by Mabel Forrest      All day she works at the sewing machine, in the factory opposite, Where the staring blindless windows gape in the glow of the...

by George Essex Evans    His hat looks worn, and his coat-sleeves shine, As I see him step from his 'bus at nine; His boots are pieced and his tie...

by Victor Kennedy    Out across the bending cane Slowly after seven moons Falls the soaking tropic rain Kindly to the parched ratoons1. And I wander...

by Robert N. Gunn    I DWELL in a black gully deep; My bones they are scattered around, And are daily trod over by sheep - Into dust they will soon all...

by Brian Vrepont    I came upon them by a strip of sea, In a drizzle of rain mending their fishing-net, Four swift brown hands, and lean with industry, Shuttling the thin...

by George Essex Evans    They left the vine-wreathed cottage and the mansion on the hill, The houses in the busy streets where life is never still, The...

by Gwen Belson-Taylor    For Jim Devaney   The old sailor leaves the port Quietly, out of pain. His hand is strong upon the helm And dawning breaks...

  Some few nights in the store-keeper’s hut – tin roof and walls -scarce thirty yards from where the twelve head battery’s crushing feet pounded and crushed...