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WILLIAM BROOKS & COMPANY, LIMITED
Printers and Publishers
17 Castlereagh Street, S^'diiey
Le Rol Est Mort - . - 5
To Australia . - - - - 5
Peace - - - - 7
To Selene 8
The Immortals - - - - 9
If I Might Choose - - - 10
Queensland Pioneers - - 11
Aurora - - - - n
Ibrahim Pasha — Albanian
War Song 12
"The King" 13
Isodore - - - - 15
The Might Have Been - 16
The Haunted Chair - - - 17
A Lonely Grave - - - - 19
In Memoriam: Captain
Scott and his Comrades
who Perished in Antar-
Loss of the "Yongala" - 20
The Loss of the "Titanic" 21
The Brotherhood of Man - 22
A Song of Australia - - 22
elseif (getClientWidth() > 430)
Life's Duty 23
Australia's Destiny - - - 24
To a Child 25
Cleveland, Q. 25
The Seven Ages of "Woman 26
Evolution - 28
To the Rose 28
The Voice of Song - - - 29
Austral's Heroes - - - - 30
The Glasshouse Mountains,
Que'ensland - - - 31
Love's Reverie - - - - 32
Remember - - - 32
The Quest - - - 33
The Jacaranda - - - - 34
The Weavers - - - 35
Where All Is Understood - 36
The City of the "Violet
Crown" - - - 36
Dreams .. - - . 38
The Muse - 38
An Australian Reverie - 40
In Memoriam: Bishop
What Is Man? - - - - 42
God's Gift 43
The Blue M o u n t a in s,
Vale! St. Ebbar - - - - 45
Autumn - - - - 45
The Poet Laureate: Alfred
Austin - - - 46
The Temple of the Years 48
Because of Thee - - - 48
The Voice of the Wind - 49
The Exile 50
Youth and Age - . - - 51
Australia to the Empire
Mother - - - 51
The Ladder Years - - - 54
At Eventide - - - 55
Imagination - - - 56
The Aftermath - - - - 56
To Sleep 58
Queensland - - - 58
Alienation - - - 59
At Night 60
The Wattle - - - 61
Austral's Song - - . - 62
I Know Not - - - 63
Mobillte . - ..- 63
Music - - - - 64
The Tale of the Great
White Plains - - - . 65
Aurelle - 67
An Australian Hymn - - 67
The Legend of Osyth's
Kosciusko, New South
The Palace of Peace - - 71
Mount Gambler, South Aus-
tralia - 73
Withered Flowers - - - 74
So Long Ago - - - 74
England - - - - 75
The Great Desideratum - 78
Life's Song 80
The Barron Falls, Que€-ns-
land - - - - 80
The Red Cross Knights - 82
Pearls - - - - 82
Cross and Crown - - - 83
The Heirlooms - - - - 84
Only for Thou and Me - 85
Oh! Ask Me Not - - - 86
The Temple of Fate - - 87
The Southern Cross - - 88
There was a Time - - - 89
In Loving Memory of Mrs.
Cowlishaw - - - go
The Rosebud: To Minnie
The Vision of Croesus - 91
Lilies - 93
The Land of Dreams - - 94
To the Sunflower - - - 96
The Price' of Conquest - 96
The Last Post - - - - 98
The Gordian Knot - - - 98
The Empty Bowl - - - 101
In Memoriam — Gallipoli - 101
The Silent "World - - - 102
Beauty's Eyes . . - - 103
Wher'er I Walk - - - - 104
Byzantium - - - 105
The Juggernaut - - - - 107
Cavell— Martyr, 1915 - - 108
Dry Bones - 109
Princess Mona - - . - m
A Southern Night - - - 112
The Silent Witnesses - - 113
The Sentinels - - - - 115
Wirajuri - - - us
Pax - - 117
"Lest We F" o r g e t"—
To Shakespeare - - - - 120
The Wardens - - - 121
The Story of Anzac - - 121
Romanus - - - 123
Damascus - - - 125
The Fie'ld-Marshal - - - 127
Ad Glorium— 1918 - - - 128
The Web of Destiny - - 129
Silver and Black - - - 130
The Garden of Souls - - 132
Can We Forget? - - - 133
The Return— 1919— '20. - - 133
La France— 1917 - - - - 134
Fiat Justitia 135
The Heart of France - - 137
Shadow Shapes - - - - 137
Chanson d' Amour - - - - 139
The Burden of Earth - - 140
In Memoriam — Emerson - 142
Mother - - - - 143
Evening at Brlbie Island - 144
The Deathless Dead, 1919 - 145
Earth, 1920 146
The Spirit's Quest - - - 147
Dewdrops - - - 149
Be Not Weary in Well-
Auster's Love Song - - - 150
The City of the Purple
Forest Maiden - - - 153
LE ROI EST MORT .
A nation's soul had hung with bated breath
Upon two fateful words: 'Twas Life or Death.
The King is dead!
Low lies that royal head; Death's seal is pressed on
that cold marble brow,
Free from all sorrow now. He is at rest:
The King is dead!
And she, whom he adored, is stricken low;
Nor tears, nor loving words, avail him now.
The King is dead!
Swifter than morning light his soul hath
Winged its flight beyond the stars.
The King is dead!
Earth's nations bow the head in mutest grief
For this: The Royal dead who sleeps beneath yon
The King is dead!
Life's pageantry is o'er; nor pomp, nor cavalcades
disturb him more.
The King is dead!
Upon that stately bier reposeth now
All that remains so dear, whom millions knew.
The King is dead!
O Angels, waft him home!
O Lord of Life and Death,
Thy will be done!
The King is dead!
And yet, he lives again; his son doth
God bless his reign!
TO AUSTRALIA .
Stella Australis! who with matchless grace
Riseth like Aphrodite from the ocean's foam,
With dawn resplendent in thx smiling face
And tresses flung to the wild breezes of thy home.
Brilliant the gems thy bosom fair adorning.
Rich run thy veins with golden treasure down;
Thy girdle formed of pearls fair as the morning,
The starry Southern Cross thj' peerless crown.
The silver rills thy rocky slopes o'erflowing,
The thunders of thy falls go rushing o'er
To join the tree-fringed rivers in their going
Down to the briny deep of Neptune's floor.
And Kosciusko towers in mighty solitude,
Poising its regal head toward the sky,
And 'mid the vast silence of its altitude
Views undisturbed the storm clouds passing by.
Thy subterranean rivers are unsounded,
The golden corn is quivering on thy plain,
Thy depths are stored with mineral wealth un-
The fame of which hath crossed the sounding
And thou dost stand, thine arms outstretched with
To greet thy friends from that dear Motherland,
To welcome thein and give them of thy treasure,
The wealth of ages which thou can'st command —
Of ages when thy central seas became
Haunts of primeval monsters of the deep;
When thy volcanoes belched their sulphurous flame
And covered all with an eternal sleep.
But thou art waking now, thou great Australis;
Thou art an empire of thy very self,
A trinity of oceans thee embraces,
z\nd crowns thee Empress of one commonwealth.
Oh, may our Empire-builders faithful be, i
Basing thy pillars' vast foundations' might
Firm on the rock of justice, truth, and liberty,
, Leading thy people upward to the light.
Would that I had the muse's lyre,
The poet's gift, and warm desire
To cleave the heights to glory's fame;
From mountain pinnacles proclaim —
Peace, universal peace.
I'd string my lute, and make the chords
Echo my heart's deep burning words;
And bid the nations contemplatively
To vibrate to the grandest harmony —
The song of peace.
For nations rise, and nations fall;
Battles are fought, and over all
Death's wings, their shadows darkness spread
With woe and terror, fraught with dread
To all mankind.
Where are the ruins of magnificence
Which the grim demon war has overthrown?
Where are the hanging gardens so immense
When Babylonian maids their glances threw
Upon their bloom?
Egypt and Carthage, Greece and Rome have passed
In long procession down the stream of Time;
The sands of centuries o'er them are cast.
Gone are those mighty cities at whose shrine
Knelt luxury and vice.
And in their train came war with cruel knife.
Creating widows, pestilence and death;
And man against his brother in the strife
Fell 'neath the devastating monster's breath,
His blood the price.
Then speed the day when the white dove of peace,
With olive branch extended to the world,
Shall all unite in brotherhood to man,
With flag of universal love unfurled —
And war shall cease.
Pale queen of beauty, in thy cold abode
Lonely thou art, lonely thou e'er wilt be;
No sweet companion ever with thee rode
Along that trackless waste of vast immensity;
Or asked thee what dark secrets thou dost hold
In thy deep jagged craters, now so dead,
Which once with Vulcan's rage and mutterings bold.
Were filled with Jovian darts and thunders dread.
Thou art a soulless beauty, yet thy form
Reflects its softly glowing radiance!
And unborn millions yielding to thy charm
Will bask in blissful dreams of dalliance.
How many vows, dear, cold and proud Selene,
Hast thou seen plighted 'neath thy smiling face?
Hovv many broken hearts now rest serene
In their last slumber 'neath thy dwelling place?
We love thee for thy sweet insouciance.
Nor would we care to dwell without thy light.
Thy pallor doth thy loveliness enhance.
Adored and stately Lady of the Night.
I walked with joy: the path was smooth
And rose-strewn, for all things to youth
Seem beautiful; and in those childhood's days
Oft' would I wander dreaming down the ways
Which led into the grotto in the leafy wood,
Where chestnut trees and tall laburnums stood,
Waving their golden heads; and 'neath my feet
Cowslips, anemones, and bluebells sweet;
And past the statue of old "Time," so scarred,
Who, scythe in hand, in stonj' silence stared.
And the green sward, like velvet carpet, spread,
With the vast canopy of azure sky o'erhead.
And down the slope were deer with lustrous eye
And scliools of rooks would weary homeward fly
Across the lake the swans would graceful glide.
While we our dais}'^ chain would weave, beside
The bank where lay the water lilies white —
Where in our childish fancy dwelt a sprite.
Ah, me! those days returning nevermore!
But thoughts remain alone of those sweet hours of
I walked with grief. The way was rough and long.
TIic world was grey and gloomy, and the voice of
Was hushed. No longer did the silver tones of dear
Home voices with their music greet mine ear;
But sudden memory would sometimes ope a door,
And forms and faces, long since gone before,
Would force the poignant tears of grief to flow —
For those dear vanished friends of long ago.
I walked with Hope, who stretched a tender thread
And led me on and upward, past the dead
Dark days. Then did my captive spirit find
That disappointments and the years had sunk behind
The grandeur and the majesty sublime
Of higher thoughts, and hidden things of time,
And sweet communion of kindred souls
Without the mortal ban. as free as rolls
The ocean when in placid mood:
Or the pure air, pouring in joyous flood.
Piercing the veil of flesh to see some noble spirit in
With lofty and exalted mien in calm serenity,
Making the common tasks a noble duty and a prayer.
Ascending to the skies, and placing there
A holy sacrifice — The altar place Heaven's throne —
^Making our Earth an Eden of our own.
These are Immortals on whose brows are set
The chaplet of imperishable fame.
And round each figure of the saintly name
We fold the mantle of our deep regret.
Lo: how they throng within the holy shrine.
File upon file they come with stately tread,
And "ONE" with pierced hands and crowned head
Waits to receive them with a look Divine.
IF I MIGHT CHOOSE.
If I might choose the home where I would dwell,
I'd choose to live where the long rolling swell
And murmuring voices of the sun-lit sea
Bring restful dreams and sweet tranquility.
If I might choose the flowers that I love best,
I'd choose the violet and the pansy, pressed
Against my wounded heart to ease its pain,
And stay the bitter tears which fall in vain.
If I might choose the songs which I would sing,
I'd choose the songs which breathe of gentle spring;
With thoughts of love and life, and flowers that
And scatter fragrance after winter's gloom.
If I might choose the books o'er which I'd pore,
I'd choose the treasures rare of ancient lore
Where sages told of kingdoms come and gone.
And glorious heroes who had laurels won.
If I might choose the friends whom I could love,
I'd choose the friends who brave and true would
In days of sadness and in daj-s of mirth,
Tried like fine leinpered s'eel, strong in its worth.
If I might choose the time when I could live,
In happiest mood, I'd choose the early eve
Of life, when feet could rest, and thoughts could
Like gentle wavelets, rippling to and fro.
If I might choose the grave where I would lie,
I'd choose the forest depth, where symphony
Of winds would like ^olian harp-strings blend.
And sweetest solace to my spirit send.
The pens of Austral's sages shall in the misty future
Write a grand record — Australia's national hymn
Of progress. And on the scroll of ages shall the
Inscribed and treasured be upon the shelf of Time —
Of pioneers' illustrious names, who fought so l:)rave
Against barbaric nature, and who found a grave
In the lone bush, and on the burning sand,
Fighting the King of Terrors, with no loving hand
To pillow soft their dying head, or wipe Death's
From their damp forehead ere the tortured spirit
Fainter and weaker still, till all was o'er;
And naught but their great names for evermore
Remain. Such heroes hath Australia given to be
The graven ba.=^ic landmarks of her dynasty.
When mighty cities on her verdant shore shall rise
And teemJng millions dwell beneath her skies.
Her starry standard, ever white, unsoiled shall be
Urging her onward towards her glorious destiny.
Night's veil is lifting, and Aurora's fingers
Unfold her robe which sheds o'er earth and sea
Its pink and golden sheen, and gently lingers
To touch with light divine each flower and tree.
Then deeper glows her train of crimson splendour
Across the skies, and dims the morning star.
And filmy opalescence, soft and tender,
Trace paths of gleaming glory spreading far.
Hark! Silver-throated choristers awaken,
Chanting their matins to the listening sky,
And glistening dew the leafy buds hath shaken
From slumber but to bloom more sweetly shy.
Lo! Helios springs, and fair Aurora's blushes
Pale 'neath the orbs of his effulgent light.
One soft salute — the lovely goddess flushes.
Then silently she disappears from sight.
IBRAHIM PASHA— Albanian War Song.
The voices of the Heralds, repeated by the echoes
From the mountain-tops to the depths of the
Valleys, are calling all good patriots to arms.
Those heroes so proud and intrepid who will
Never again see their native hearth imtil covered
With glory, bearing their trophies of victory. They
will return or die.
Thus they will assemble around their chiefs;
Their silver-mounted arms, their burnished
Swords flashing resplendent in the sun.
The gun, faithful companion of all Albanians,
Must be placed in the hands of every youth who
Has attained three times the age of five j^ears.
They must, like a furious torrent, rush precipitantly
Towards the danger which menaces them.
Our dear country is in peril. The enemy hides
His designs, and sends ambassadors; but behind
Them are the chains with which they will bind
LTs should they attain their desires;
They will make us serfs, slaves, for such is their
And shall we calmly await such dishonour?
What is death to us? Does not the memory
Of our forefathers rise and reproach us for our
Indolence and lack of courage?
Our dear country is the Mother who nourished
Our children, and who inspires us to loyal and
Pure sentiments, and filial love. Shall we not
Tlien shed our blood for our country?
Hark! bitter cries are borne on the wings of the
North wind. The dust whirling in nebulous globes
Announces the coming march of an army.
It is the thirty-thousand Albanians of Scutari march-
ing to meet the enemy.
But see! Who is this mounted officer approaching.
Bearing himself with such dignity and repose of
Mien; yet who withal can inspire such terror?
He of colossal stature, with eagle glance, who
With uplifted sword leads on to battle.
This is Ibrahim Pasha, most illustrous of
Warriors, distinguished as much for his virtue as for
Advance, then, ye Bosnians, ye RoumeliansI
Asiatics, all of ye. We fear you not, though
Ye were thrice as numerous. We shall be victorious;
Death to us is nought.
The carnage is terrible, Amhed succumbs,
And there with their great general lie the
Brave dead of the Ottoman army.
The rage of the combatants ceases suddenly.
A panic seems to liave seized them. The
Ottoman troops take flight. Tliey are overcome by
Why do they depart? Rather they should remain
And learn of the valour and prowess of the
Their brilliant standards are mingled with
Those of the victors. They are trophies, spoils of
The enemy, abandoned upon the held of battle.
Return we now to the bosom of our families.
Welcome us (youths and husbands) who desire
To rest after the heat of the battle. And, oh
Faithful wives, we will teach our children to
Follow in our footsteps and imitate our courage.
Australia's flag floats on the breeze,
On this the Coronation day.
FrO'm torrid zones to zones that freeze.
Old England still doth wield her sway.
So to our king with loyal hearts
We lift our loving cup and say
"Be as thy sire — :\. man of parts —
In the great drama thou must play."
He hath not asked to be a King;
The destinies decreed it so.
Then forth the royal mantle bring,
And press the crown on regal brow!
Australia with her pride of race;
The younger Empire's daughter fair
The sea-king's child of gentle face —
Noble and strong to do and dare.
Whose ties of blood far stronger are
Cementing freedom's civil rights
Than bands of steel or iron bar —
A constitution strong in might —
Swears her allegiance to thy throne,
And sacred person by the sign
Of her own virtue, fervent grown,
In love of liberty divine.
A race distinctive she hath bred,
Offspring of high unsullied name;
And down the centuries her tread
Shall never bend to servile fame.
Her sons, within her ramparts grim,
Watch in her rocky coat of mail;
Chivalrous, strong and lithe of limb —
Read}', should foe their land assail.
Well doth she know the hour must come,
When boom of cannon, clash of spear,
And martial music, sound of drum,
Announce to all "the foe is near."
And in her hands she holds the keys;
I hear her footsteps at the gate —
The Eastern Gate — of Eastern Seas.
O'er which shall ride her ships of state.
When Western Empires disappear
As lost Lemuria in the myths
Of ages, Austral still will bear
Her story in her ]\Ionolitlis.
Once upon a night so dreary
I was seated all alone
In my sanctum, sad and weary,
All my heart was turned to stone.
And the rain fell, never ceasing.
While the wind with angry roar
Howled against the leaden casements.
As it ne'er had done before.
And my soul was filled with sorrow
For my lost and lonely bride;
I had gained her, but to lose her,
Isodore, my joy and pride.
Ah! I felt so sorely wounded,
I should see her nevermore.
For pale death had swiftly borne her
To that misty, silent shore.
In her bridal robe we laid her.
Clasped her gems o'er filmy lace.
With her golden tresses streaming
Round about her saintly face.
So my thoughts were ever trending
To my darling's lonely grave.
While the firelight threw its shadows.
And the tears mj' cheeks did lave.
Sudden, came a thrill of terror —
As a long despairing moan
Smote mj^ ear, from out the casement,
Where the elder tree had grown.
Fearful, oped I wide the windov,-.
Where, with lantern gleaming red.
Stood my dearest Isodore,
Or her spirit from the dead.
Then she spoke in voice quite human,
■' 'Tis your own, j^our Isodore;"
Quickly I unbarred the portal
As she prone sank to the floor.
'Twas no vision; she was mortal.
And her tale she slowly told;
Plow the wicked sexton robbed her,
As she lay in coffin cold.
He had hacked her slender fingers
To secure the rings so rare;
She, from cataleptic slumber
Woke, and saw his lantern there.
Then the sexton, ghastly gazing,
Dropped his booty there and fled.
Little thinking, he, in robbing,
Gave me back my precious dead.
Happy years have we together
Spent, my Isodore and I;
And no more I pensive ponder,
Lonely when the night winds sigli.
NOTE. — A true story of the old family of " The Penaires
of Pcnairie " — Cornish.
THE MIGHT HAVE BEEN.
When we in silence stand upon the shore
Of that uncompassed vastitude, the sea,
And view the sunset with its flaming ore,
Embossing heaven in wondrous imagery.
Emotional, with our swiftly surging thought.
With breathless awe on the fair scene we gaze.
And weave in fancy glorious galleons wrought
In matchless beauty, gleaming in the maze.
And thus our hopes and dreams of the ideal
Are graven on Life's many tinted screen,
The bold relief we cherish is not real,
But pictures only what we "might have been."
THE HAUNTED CHAIR .
One of a large house party, on a frosty Christmas
The conversation led to ghosts in which some folks
"I wish this house were haunted," cried a lady young
"I'd shut myself within its gloom, and none should
say me nay."
Our host informed us gravely that up the broad
Was a sealed and disused chamber, which owned
a haunted chair.
His grandfather long years before was missing from
They searched and found him sitting within the
arm-chair — dead.
His wealth had been proverbial, but no one found
And though in manner sometimes strange, no one
had wished him ill.
■"The secret never had been solved," our host said,
"nor a trace
Of aught remained, except the land, and this an-
" 'Tis done," the lady said; "to-night I sleep in that
And if his ghost appears to me, I'll never show
That night the lady went and sat within tlie
She drew the curtain, chose a book, and read a
And then a fear possessed her, she grasped the huge
For in the shadows she could see a man with
His hands were clasped above him in suppliant
And tears were streaming down like rain, while
words in torrent flowed:
*"I had a brother once, a bov. I loved him as my
But he destroyed my happiness, he stole my
We parted, he to Anstral's land, I for long years
Until his widow sought me out to aid her infant
We married, and I brought him up, but he my
I hid it here, for of this youth with fear was I
Who'er shall find this secret, as my will doth so
Shall take the half, and all the rest the poor shall
have a share;
And Christ reward the hand that finds, and does
this Christian deed.
For He hath said unto His f^ock, 'See that my
lambs ye feed,"
She rose Avith awe, he beckoned her, the chair
began to creak;
He pressed two large brass nails which lay beneath
the leather back.
And there inside the haunted chair were heaps and
heaps of gold.
And papers tied with tapes, and strings, and dusty
Her dream she told that Christmas morn, the
haunted chair was brought —
A fearful weight it was to move, 'twas well and
truly wrought —
At length with pressure brought to bear the nails
began to move.
When there disclosed to light of day, lay the old
The lady won't believe in ghosts, but she believes
And also that this lovely world is better than it
To-day we are the owners of the ancient haunted
And clasping Christmas presents my wife is seated
A LONELY GRAVE.
Somewhere it lies near the gleaming bay,
On the Redhmd road with its winding waj'-
Through the bush — where a fence in a lonely spot
Surrounds a grave in its hallowed plot.