Dame Mary Gilmore

Singapore

They grouped together about the chief And each one looked at his mate, Ashamed to think that Australian men Should meet such bitter fate! And black was the wrath in each hot heart And

Old Botany Bay

“I’m old Botany Bay; Stiff in the joints, Little to say. I am he Who paved the way, That you might walk At your ease to-day; I was the conscript Sent to hell To

Harried we were, and spent, Broken and falling, Ere as the cranes we went, Crying and calling. Summer shall see the bird Backward returning; Never shall there be heard Those, who went yearning. Emptied

Pejar Creek

Deep in the meadow grass Easy stand the cattle, Lightly lock the young bulls In a mimic battle, Pride gathers with each shock, Every break and rally – That’s where the Pejar runs, Runs

Marri'd

IT’S singin’ in an’ out, An’ feelin’ full of grace; Here ‘n’ there, up an’ down, An’ round about th’ place. It’s rollin’ up your sleeves, An’ whit’nin’ up the hearth, An’ scrubbin’ out

O Singer in Brown

O, singer in brown! O, bird o’ th’ morn! O, heart of delight In th’ deep o’ th’ thorn! Glad is thy song Thou joy o’ th’ morn, Thou palpitant throat In the heart

Nationality

I have grown past hate and bitterness, I see the world as one; But though I can no longer hate, My son is still my son. All men at God’s round table sit, And

The First Thrush

Though leaves have fallen long since, The wagtails flirt and flit, Glad in the morning sun; While, on the knotted quince, The dewdrops, pearled on it, Bead to a little run. . . .

Eve – Song

I span and Eve span A thread to bind the heart of man; But the heart of man was a wandering thing That came and went with little to bring: Nothing he minded what

No Foe Shall Gather Our Harvest

Sons of the mountains of Scotland, Welshmen of coomb and defile, Breed of the moors of England, Children of Erin’s green isle, We stand four square to the tempest, Whatever the battering hail- No

Sweethearts

IT’S gettin’ bits o’ posies, ‘N’ feelin’ mighty good; A-thrillin’ ’cause she loves you, An’ wond’rin’ why she should; An’ stoppin’ sort o’ sudden, Because you’re full o’ thought; An’ quick with res’less feelin’s