Frank Samuel Williamson
Frank Samuel Williamson (19 January 1865 – 6 February 1936) was an Australian poet.
Williamson was born in Melbourne and educated at Scotch College, Melbourne. He was a secondary school teacher in Melbourne and Sydney, but occasional bouts of intemperance made it difficult for him to keep his positions. He had the reputation of being an excellent master, especially in English. In later ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Frank Samuel Williamson Poems
Before the Boat Race
There's a tumult in the distance, and a warsong in the air, Where the foemen in their galleys, for another fight prepare, For they whisper in the country, and they noise it in the town,
A Gippsland Morning in Early Spring
Grey ashes of a crimson flower Beneath the cedar shed, The fire, that bloomed in Night's dark bower, No more may raise its head.
The Spring Wind
A breeze comes past me singing, and a white cloud slow is swinging, Like a poppy that is parting from a slender hidden stem.
When Autumn, mother of the Spring, Her days of waiting, numbering, Walks musing in my garden ways,
Lulled by song of bird, and wind, melodies of seas; Waiting for the white man's foot, through the centuries, Pent in solitudes enchanted, dreamed the mighty trees.
Music makes for beauty moan, For the lovely Spring o'erthrown. For the Capeweed glory set, And the mouldered violet.
Love in the South
The opal-sandalled Morn and Spring Go singing hand in hand, Their sister voices sweetly ring Across a perfumed land;
She Comes as Comes the Summer Night
I She comes as comes the summer night, Violet, perfumed, clad with stars, To heal the eyes hurt by the light Flung by Day's brandish'd scimitars.
Dew upon the robin as he lilts there, on the thorn, Jewel on a scarlet breast a fleeting moment worn, And suddenly by fairy hands into blue heaven drawn.
Mist and Moon
Why should the mist rise from the stream. A lyric on its bars! And steal from every wave the gleam, Begot by lover stars.
I seemed a waste of weary land, Lone, grey, forsaken by the sea, The keen sun smote my naked sand, The sultry wind made sport of me.
The Magpie's Song
Where the dreaming Tiber wanders by the haunted Appian Way, Lo! the nightingale is uttering a sorrow-burdened lay
The Miner's Grave
His comrades bore him to the grave, In column moving slow, With pomp their faithful subjects gave To monarchs long ago.
The Swagman, or In Exile
Long I've watched the eagle soaring, and the sun his colours pouring, Till they fill the vale below me, as though with purple wine;
Comments about Frank Samuel Williamson
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Before the Boat Race
There's a tumult in the distance, and a warsong in the air,
Where the foemen in their galleys, for another fight prepare,
For they whisper in the country, and they noise it in the town,
That the Wesley colours from the mast will soon be taken down.
Then, it's forward, boys, to battle—hear the bugle's thrilling tone,
With the Royal Purple, borne ahead, march onward, to your own;
With the Lion proudly passing, as the ensign flutters free;
Let the Lion keep the river, as the Lion keeps the sea.
They have raised the Light-blue pennon, and the Flag of the ...