Henry Lawson Poems

  • 451.  
    It was a week from Christmas-time,
    As near as I remember, And half a year since, in the rear,
  • 452.  
    â??Tis William Street, the link street,
    That seems to stand alone;â??Tis William Street, the vague street,
  • 453.  
    We love the land when the world goes round,
    And deep, deep down in her thorny ground,Where nobody comes, and nobody knows,
  • 454.  
    From over the leagues of ice and snow, and the miles of scorching sand;
    From back of the days of long ago, and the lonely sea and landâ??To the end of the world and our Gipsy race, to the death of our dark-eyed line,
  • 455.  
    WHEN first I came to town, resolved
    To fight my way alone,No prouder foot than mine eâ??er trod
  • 456.  
    The gentlemen of Dickens
    Were mostly very poor,And innocent of grammar,
  • 457.  
    Well Boory, I have read your â??grinâ?,
    And listened to your whine;I only wish youâ??d sent it in
  • 458.  
    â??If not in the Garden, he had in the ark,
    To neither the beastsâ?? nor the passengersâ?? joy.Full many a boyish and monkeyish lark,
  • 459.  
    THEY SAY he was thrown and run over,
    But that is sheer nonsense, of course:I taught him to ride when a kiddy,
  • 460.  
    They were men of many nations, they were men of many stations,
    They were men in many places, and of high and low degree;Men of many types and faces, but, alike in all the races,
  • 461.  
    THEREâ??S a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory
    Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we donâ??t know if itâ??s true;For we scarcely dare to credit evâ??rything they say who edit
  • 462.  
    There is a lasting little flower,
    That everybody knows,Yet none has thought to think about
  • 463.  
    They canâ??t hear in West oâ?? London, where the worst dine with the bestâ??
    Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they canâ??t hear in London Westâ??Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that beâ??
  • 464.  
    Now this is the song of a prisonâ??a song of a gaol or jugâ??
    A ballad of quod or of chokey, the ultimate home of the mug.The yard where the Foolish are drafted; Hellâ??s school where the harmless are taught;
  • 465.  
    The Other Night I got the blues and tried to smile in vain.
    I couldnâ??t chuck a chuckle at the foolery of Twain;When Ward and Billings failed to bring a twinkle to my eye,
  • 466.  
    A day of seeming innocence,
    A glorious sun and sky, And, just above my picket fence,
  • 467.  
    THERE ARE three lank bards in a borrowed roomâ??
    Ah! The number is one too fewâ??They have deemed their home and the bars unfit
  • 468.  
    They towed the Seabolt down the stream,
    And through the harbourâ??s mouth;She spread her wings and sailed away
  • 469.  
    And dunno if my legs or back or heart is most wore out; I've got no spirits left to rise and smooth me achin' brow --
  • 470.  
    They lifted her out of a story
    Too sordid and selfish by far,They left me the innocent glory
  • 471.  
    I want to be lighting my pipe on deck,
    With my baggage safe belowâ??I want to be free of the crowded quay,
  • 472.  
    It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went,
    For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent; And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and the push,
  • 473.  
    There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not,
    On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot. Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze
  • 474.  
    They have eaten their fill at your tables spread,
    Like friends since the land was won; And they rise with a cry of "Australia's dead!"
  • 475.  
    NOT to the sober and staid,
    Leading a quiet life,But to men whose paths are laid
  • 476.  
    Down here where the ships loom large in
    The gloom when the sea-storms veer,Down here on the south-west margin
  • 477.  
    She's milking in the rain and dark,
    As did her mother in the past.The wretched shed of poles and bark,
  • 478.  
    Though poor and in trouble I wander alone,
    With rebel cockade in my hat, Though friends may desert me, and kindred disown,
  • 479.  
    THE Separated Women
    Go lying through the land,For they have plenty dresses,
  • 480.  
    It was old Jerry Brown,
    Whoâ??d an office in town,And he used to get jocular, very;
  • 481.  
    Are you coming, Ivan, coming?â??Ah, the ways are long and slow,
    In the vast land that we know notâ??and we never sought to know.We are watching through the daybreak, when the anxious night is done,
  • 482.  
    Long Bill, the captain of the push, was tired of his estate,
    And wished to change his life and win the love of something â??straightâ??;â??Twas rumourâ??d that the Gory B.â??s had heard Long Bill declare
  • 483.  
    We hear a great commotion
    'Bout the ship that comes to grief, That founders in mid-ocean,
  • 484.  
    Macquarie the shearer had met with an accident. To tell the truth, he had been in a drunken row at a wayside shanty, from which he had escaped with three fractured ribs, a cracked head, and various minor abrasions. His dog, Tally, had been a sober but savage participator in the drunken row, and had escaped with a broken leg.

  • 485.  
    â??Nobody's enemy save his ownâ?â??
    (What shall it be in the end?)â??Still by the nick-name he is knownâ??
  • 486.  
    The Young King fights in the trenches and the Old King fights in the rearâ??
    Because he is old and feeble, and not for a thought of fear.The Young King fights for the Future, and the Old King fights for the Pastâ??
  • 487.  
    There's a wind that blows out of the South in the drought,
    And we pray for the touch of his breathWhen siroccos come forth from the North-West and North,
  • 488.  
    When God's wrath-cloud is o'er me,
    Affrighting heart and mind; When days seem dark before me,
  • 489.  
    It surely cannot be too soon, and never is too late,
    It tones with all Australiaâ??s tune to praise oneâ??s native State,And so I bring an old refrain from days of posts and rails,
  • 490.  
    Some born of homely parents
    For ages settled downâ??The steady generations
  • 491.  
    Because he had sinned and suffered, because he loved the land,
    And because of his wonderful sympathy, he held menâ??s hearts in his hand.Born and bred of the people, he knew their every whim,
  • 492.  
    To the Editor of The Albany Observer

  • 493.  
    WE THROW us down on the dusty plain
    When the gold has gone from the west,But we rise and tramp on the track again,
  • 494.  
    O BARD of fortune, you deem me nought
    But a mark for your careless scorn.For I am the echo-less grave of thought
  • 495.  
    I have sinned, like others, blindly, without thought and without fear,
    And my best friends say it kindly, â??You should go away from here.â??Shall I fly the paltry spirit of a narrow little town,
  • 496.  
    The Valley's full of misty cloud,
    Its tinted beauty drowning,The Eucalypti roar aloud,
  • 497.  
    Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
    Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry; Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
  • 498.  
    I'll tell you what you wanderers, who drift from town to town;
    Don't look into a good girl's eyes, until you've settled down. It's hard to go away alone and leave old chums behind-
  • 499.  
    Now this is a rhyme that might well be carried
    Gummed in your hat till the end of things:Say Good-bye when your chum is married;
  • 500.  
    By Lawson's Hill, near Mudgee,
    On old Eurunderee â?? The place they called "New Pipeclay",
Total 572 poems written by Henry Lawson

Poem of the day

Charles Hamilton Sorley Poem
Expectans Expectavi
 by Charles Hamilton Sorley

From morn to midnight, all day through,
I laugh and play as others do,
I sin and chatter, just the same
As others with a different name.

And all year long upon the stage
I dance and tumble and do rage
So vehemently, I scarcely see

Read complete poem

Popular Poets