Henry Kendall

(18 April 1839 – 1 August 1882 / Ulladulla, New South Wales)

Henry Kendall Poems

1. Achan 1/1/2004
2. On The Paroo 4/7/2010
3. Our Jack 4/7/2010
4. For Ever 4/7/2010
5. Ghost Glen 4/7/2010
6. Merope 4/7/2010
7. Intaglio - Frank Denz 4/7/2010
8. The Curse Of Mother Flood 4/7/2010
9. In Memory Of Edward Butler 4/7/2010
10. Ogyges 4/7/2010
11. The Earth Laments For Day 4/7/2010
12. Mount Erebus: (A Fragment) 4/7/2010
13. James Lionel Michael 1/1/2004
14. Caroline Chisholm 4/7/2010
15. Christmas Creek 4/7/2010
16. Daniel Henry Deniehy 1/1/2004
17. Lilith 4/7/2010
18. Ned The Larrikin 4/7/2010
19. In Memoriam -- A. L. Gordon 4/7/2010
20. In Memoriam — Nicol Drysdale Stenhouse 4/7/2010
21. Foreshadowings 4/7/2010
22. Kingsborough 4/7/2010
23. Manasseh 4/7/2010
24. Morning In The Bush 4/7/2010
25. Orara 1/1/2004
26. Outre Mer 1/4/2003
27. Dedication 4/7/2010
28. The Wail In The Native Oak 4/7/2010
29. The Wild Kangaroo 4/7/2010
30. To Miss Annie Hopkins 4/7/2010
31. Bill The Bullock-Driver 4/7/2010
32. Hy-Brasil 1/4/2003
33. Mary Rivers 4/7/2010
34. Leaves From Australian Forests (12 Sonnets) 4/7/2010
35. In Memoriam~ -- Alice Fane Gunn Stenhouse 4/7/2010
36. In Memorium : Adam Lindsay Gordon 4/7/2010
37. John Dunmore Lang 4/7/2010
38. Kiama Revisited 4/7/2010
39. Jim The Splitter 4/7/2010
40. In The Depths Of A Forest 4/7/2010
Best Poem of Henry Kendall

Amongst The Roses

I walked through a Forest, beneath the hot noon,
On Etheline calling and calling!
One said: “She will hear you and come to you soon,
When the coolness, my brother, is falling.”
But I whispered: “O Darling, I falter with pain!”
And the thirsty leaves rustled, and hissed for the rain,
Where a wayfarer halted and slept on the plain;
And dreamt of a garden of Roses!
Of a cool sweet place,
And a nestling face
In a dance and a dazzle of Roses.
In the drought of a Desert, outwearied, I wept,
O Etheline, ...

Read the full of Amongst The Roses

After Many Years

The song that once I dreamed about,
   The tender, touching thing,
As radiant as the rose without,
   The love of wind and wing:
The perfect verses, to the tune
   Of woodland music set,
As beautiful as afternoon,
   Remain unwritten yet.

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