Old Poetry Poetry • Poets • Essays • Forums •

Edward Dyson's Poetry, by written

1 - 30 of 94     1 2 3 4  next >
  • The Rescue
    THERE’S a sudden, fierce clang of the knocker, then the sound of a voice in the shaft,
    Shrieking words that drum hard on the centres,
    64 lines
  • Bashful Gleeson
    FROM HER HOME beyond the river in the parting of the hills,
    Where the wattles fleecy blossom surged and scattered in the breeze,
    68 lines
  • Worked-Out Mine
    ON summer nights when moonbeams flow
        And glisten o’er the high, white tips,
    52 lines
  • German Joe
    SKIRTING the swamp and the tangled scrub,
        Tramping and turning amidst the trees,
    68 lines
  • Waiting For Water
    ’TWAS old Flynn, the identity, told us
        That the creek always ran pretty high,
    128 lines
  • When Brother Peetree Prayed
    ’TWAS a sleepy little chapel by a wattled hill erected,
    Where the storms were always muffled, and an atmosphere of peace
    37 lines
  • The Old Camp-Oven
    WE DON’T keep a grand piano in our hut beside the creek,
    And I’m pretty certain Hannah couldn’t bang it, anyhow,
    52 lines
  • When The Bell Blew Up
    ‘THAT’S the boiler at The Bell, mates! Tumble out, Ned, neck and crop—
    Never mind your hat and coat, man, we’ll be wanted on the job.
    54 lines
  • The Trucker
    IF YOU want a game to tame you and to take your measure in,
    Try a week or two of trucking in a mine
    63 lines
  • In ‘The Benevolent’
    ‘I’M OFF on the wallaby!’ cries Old Ben,
        And his pipe is lit, and his swag is rolled;
    48 lines
  • Jonah’s Luck
    OUT OF LUCK, mate? Have a liquor. Hang it, where’s the use complaining?
    Take your fancy, I’m in funds now—I can stand the racket, Dan
    106 lines
  • Night Shift
    ‘HELLO! that’s the whistle, be moving.
        Wake up! don’t lie muttering there.
    52 lines
  • The Tale Of Steven
    ’TIS the tale of Simon Steven, braceman at the Odd-and-Even,
    At The Nations, in the gully. They were sinking in the rock.
    53 lines
  • The Fossicker
    A STRAIGHT old fossicker was Lanky Mann,
        Who clung to that in spite of friends’ advising:
    43 lines
  • The Tin-Pot Mill
    QUITE a proud and happy man is Finn the Packer
        Since he built his crazy mill upon the rise,
    62 lines
  • A Poor Joke
    ‘NO, you can’t count me in, boys; I’m off it—
        I’m jack of them practical jokes;
    124 lines
  • Struck It At Last
    HE WAS almost blind, and wasted
        With the wear of many years;
    61 lines
  • The Prospectors
    WHEN the white sun scorches the fair, green land in the rage of his fierce desires,
    Or looms blood red on the Western hills, through
    61 lines
  • Since Nellie Came To Live Along The Creek
    MY HUT is built of stringy-bark, the window’s calico,
    The furniture a gin-case, one bush-table, and a bunk;
    75 lines
  • The Freak
    JUST beyond All Alone, going back,
        Is the humpy of Hatter Magee.
    98 lines
  • In Town
    OUT of work and out of money—out of friends that means, you bet—
    Out of firewood, togs and tucker, out of everything but debt—
    43 lines
  • The Deserted Homestead
    PAST a dull, grey plain where a world-old grief seems to brood o’er the silent land,
    When the orbéd moon turns her tense, white face
    78 lines
  • A New Girl Up At White’s
    THERE’S a fresh track down the paddock
        Through the lightwoods to the creek,
    61 lines
  • Whose Wife
    ‘HARRY! what, that yourself, back to old Vic., man,
    Down from the Never Land? Now, what’s your game?
    33 lines
  • Battered Bob
    HE WAS working on a station in the Western when I knew him,
    And he came from Conongamo, up the old surveyors’ track,
    88 lines
  • The Splitter
    IN THE MORN when the keen blade bites the tree,
        And the chips on the dead leaves dance,
    43 lines
  • Bullocky Bill
    FROM a river siding, the railway town,
    Or the dull new port there three days down,
    33 lines
  • To The Theoretical Selector
    WOULD YOU be the King, the strong man, first in council and in toil,
    To the men who war with nature for possession of the soil?
    41 lines
  • The Drovers In Reply
    We are wondering why those fellows who are writing cheerful ditties
    Of the rosy times out droving, and the dust and death of cities,
    48 lines
  • The Shanty
    THERE ARE tracks through the scrub, there’s a track down the hill,
    And a track round the bend from M‘Courteney’s mill,
    46 lines
1 - 30 of 94     1 2 3 4  next >