In the drift of the rift, and the broken rime, Is rich on the evergreen lands of the Sun,Īs the waters beat in and the echoes troop forth With a fearful face, and it moans and it stands Ogilvie, 1958.Īnd the darks and the damps of the Northern Sea The North Queensland Register, 7 November 1927 andįair Girls and Grey Horses: With Other Verses by Will H. They will hear no tramp on the thirsty groundįirst published in The Bulletin, 6 June 1896 They had no white hands to wave them back,īut none the less will their sleep be sound There are lone graves left on the Wallaby Track, Our dull hearts quicken their rhythmic beat The great Bush sings to us, out and back, There are stars of gold on the Wallaby Track, There are horse-bells tinkling down the windĪnd the boom of the team-bells intertwined There are long bright days on the Wallaby Track,Īnd long, long thoughts that are drifting back There are glories born of the sinking sun There are pearls of dew on the Wallaby TrackĪnd blush-clouds beating the night-shades back Shouldering burdens of Doubt and Despair, Oh, a weird, wild road is the Wallaby Track The flowers are sunkissed, frail and sweet,įirst published in The Bulletin, 23 June 1921Īuthor: Grace Ethel Martyr (1888-1934) was born in Ballarat and for a time before her death in Bendigo in 1934 she was social editor of the Bendigo Advertiser.
The Poetry of 'Breaker' Morant: from "The Bulletin" 1891-1903 with original illustrations by Breaker Morant, 1980.Īuthor reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography Where the waters swirl round the willow stems,įirst published in The Bulletin, 3 September 1898 īushman and Buccaneer: Harry Morant : His 'Ventures and Verses edited by Frank Renar, 1902 and That other - and longer - night shall come. On the willow boughs, ere the day is done -Īnd the birds which sang in the morn are dumb Your innocent eyes and your girlish graceĪnd the soft, warm clasp of your little hand. Years come, and go! but they cannot efface Till the valley was flooded with yellow light.Īs though Night were jealous of Day's delight. Whilst the sunlight shone upon fields aflame,
Where the river has wound through its waste of sand,Īnd You came! - as the morning sunbeams came -Īnd the whole of this fair world waxed more bright Their wood-clad crests from a misty shroud I watched in the dawning the brown hills raise Save eastward - where glowered one fire-edged cloud. When the sky was the softest shade of grays,
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