Edwin James Brady
Edwin James Brady, journalist and writer, was born on 7 August 1869 at Carcoar, New South Wales, son of Irish parents, Edward John Brady, mounted police constable, and his wife Hannah, née Kenny. His father had migrated first to the United States of America where he had fought in the civil war. Brady was educated at Oberon Public School, then in Washington D.C. where his family settled in 1881. Homesick they returned to Sydney next year, and Brady went to two Catholic schools, then in 1884 passed the junior public examination from St Patrick's Boys' School. He worked on the Ben Buckler sewer and matriculated, but only attended a few evening lectures at the University of... more »
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Edwin James Brady Poems
Lost and Given Over
A Mermaid’s not a human thing, An’ courtin’ such is folly; Of flesh an’ blood I’d rather sing, What ain’t so melancholy.
With the lifting of the curtain, Distance, dim, but grimly certain, Breaks my vision of a city, populous and great, To my senses, sorrow-sated,
The Great Grey Water
Now two have met, now two have met, Who may not meet again— Two grains of sand, two blades of grass, Two threads within the skein—
The Wardens of the Seas
Like star points in the ether to guide a homing soul Towards God's Eternal Haven; above the wash and roll, Across and o'er the oceans, on all the coasts they stand Tall seneschals of commerce, High Wardens of the Strand --
Beside the Narrow Crossing-Place (And night was falling gray), Two Shadows met, the legends tell. .
The 'Bulletin' Stairs
The Mecca of Bohemian men Was Archibald's untidy den. Firm-footed near the portals there Uprose, as now, a spacious stair
When a heavy surf is droning In the twilight on the bar; When our Mother Sea is crooning
Dross and Gold
**Life is dross, but Love is gold* So, throughout the numbered days. Mine to keep and thine to hold. Be it as the Master says.
No more will Rod his lyrics sing, As tuneful as the thrush when Spring With minstrel voice is calling; As joyous as the gentle chime
Comments about Edwin James Brady
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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Lost and Given Over
A Mermaid’s not a human thing,
An’ courtin’ such is folly;
Of flesh an’ blood I’d rather sing,
What ain’t so melancholy.
Oh, Berta! Loo! Jaunita! Sue!
Here’s good luck to me and you—
Sing rally! ri-a-rally!
The seas is deep; the seas is wide;
But this I’ll prove whate’er betide,
I’m bully in the alley!
I’m bull-ee in our al-lee!
The Hooghli gal’er face is brown;
The Hilo gal is lazy;
The gal that lives by ’Obart town
She’d drive a dead man crazy;
Come, wet your lip, and let it slip! ...