•         Come on the sea, beloved,

                Fearless and free;

            Leave friends and wealth behind;

                Come, come with me.

            My bark on the water shines

                A fairy thing; --

            See her pennon, mast, and keel!

            She is but a little shell,
    ...

  • From his slim Palace in the Dust

    He relegates the Realm,

    More loyal for the exody

    That has befallen him.

  • My cocoon tightens, colors tease,

    I'm feeling for the air ;

    A dim capacity for wings

    Degrades the dress I wear.


    A power of butterfly must be

    The aptitude to fly,

    Meadows of majesty concedes

    And easy sweeps...

  • From Us She wandered now a Year,

    Her tarrying, unknown,

    If Wilderness prevent her feet

    Or that Ethereal Zone


    No eye hath seen and lived

    We ignorant must be —

    We only know what time of Year

    We took the Mystery.

  • Scene: On Monaro.

    Dramatis Personae

    Shock-headed blackfellow,

    Boy (on a pony).


    Snowflakes are falling

    Gentle and slow,

    Youngster says, "Frying Pan

    What makes it snow?"


    Frying Pan, confident,

    Makes the reply —

    "Shake 'im big flour bag
    ...

  • WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm,
    Nor question much,

    That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm;

    The mystery, the sign, you must not touch;
    For 'tis my outward soul,

    Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being...

  • Funny — to be a Century —

    And see the People — going by —

    I — should die of the Oddity —

    But then — I'm not so staid — as He —


    He keeps His Secrets safely — very —

    Were He to tell — extremely sorry

    This Bashful Globe of Ours would be —

    So dainty of Publicity —

  • Further in Summer than the Birds -

    Pathetic from the Grass -

    A minor Nation celebrates

    It's unobtrusive Mass.


    No Ordinance be seen -

    So gradual the Grace

    A gentle Custom it becomes -

    Enlarging Loneliness -


    Antiquest felt at Noon -

    When August is burning low...

  • Here, where the world is quiet,

        Here, where all trouble seems

    Dead winds' and spent waves' riot

        In doubtful dreams of dreams;

    I watch the green field growing

    For reaping folk and sowing,

    For harvest-time and mowing,

        A sleepy world of...