Doubting Heart Adelaide Anne Procter WHERE are the swallows fled? Frozen and dead, Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore. O doubting heart! Far over purple seas They wait, in sunny ease, The balmy southern breeze, To bring them to their northern homes once more....
A Woman’s Question Adelaide Anne Procter BEFORE I trust my fate to thee, Or place my hand in thine, Before I let thy future give Color and form to mine, Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me. I break all...
A Lost Chord Adelaide Anne Procter SEATED one day at the Organ, I was weary and ill at ease, And my fingers wandered idly Over the noisy keys. I do not know what I was playing, Or what I was dreaming then ; But I...
Zu Der Edlen Yagd Adam Lindsay Gordon I remember some words my father said, When I was an urchin vain ;? God rest his soul, in his narrow bed These ten long years he hath lain. When I think one drop of the blood he...
Ye Wearie Wayfarer Adam Lindsay Gordon Hark! the bells of distant cattle Waft across the range, Through the golden-tufted wattle Music low and strange; Like the marriage of peal fairies Comes the tinkling sound, Or like chimes of sweet St Mary’s On far English ground....
Wormwood And Nightshade Adam Lindsay Gordon The troubles of life are many, The pleasures of life are few ; When we sat in the sunlight, Annie, I dreamt that the skies were blue? When we sat in the sunlight, Annie, I dreamt that the earth...
Wolf And Hound Adam Lindsay Gordon You’ll take my tale with a little salt; But it needs none, nevertheless! I was foiled completely – fair at fault – Disheartened, too, I confess! At the splitters’ tent I had seen the track Of horse-hoofs fresh on...
Whisperings In Wattle-Boughs Adam Lindsay Gordon Oh, gaily sings the bird, and the wattle-boughs are stirred And rustled by the scented breath of spring ; Oh, the dreary, wistful longing ! Oh, the faces that are thronging ! Oh, the voices that are vaguely whispering...
Verses Inspired By ‘My Old Black Pipe’ Adam Lindsay Gordon Aye ! Many a sport old Homer names. By Achilles held ‘ at his little games ‘, On the banks of the swift Scamander ; And Pindar sings the Olympian deeds Of the ivory car...
Unshriven Adam Lindsay Gordon Oh ! the sun rose on the lea, and the bird sang merrilie, And the steed stood ready harnessed in the hall. And he left his lady’s bower, and he sought the eastern tower, And he lifted cloak and weapon from...
