Henry Kendall

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

Henry Kendall Poems

1. ~araluen~ 1/1/2004
2. A Birthday Trifle 4/7/2010
3. A Day Of Dream 4/7/2010
4. A Death In The Bush 4/7/2010
5. A Hyde Park Larrikin 1/1/2004
6. A Mountain Spring 1/1/2004
7. A Spanish Love Song 1/1/2004
8. Aboriginal Death Song 1/1/2004
9. Achan 1/1/2004
10. After Many Years 1/4/2003
11. After The Hunt 1/1/2004
12. Aileen 1/1/2004
13. Amongst The Roses 1/1/2004
14. Arakoon 1/1/2004
15. Araluen 1/4/2003
16. Astarte 1/1/2004
17. At Dusk 4/7/2010
18. At Euroma 4/7/2010
19. At Her Window 4/7/2010
20. At Long Bay 4/7/2010
21. Australia Vindex 4/7/2010
22. Australian War Song 4/7/2010
23. Basil Moss 4/7/2010
24. Bell Birds 4/7/2010
25. Bellambi's Maid 4/7/2010
26. Bells Beyond The Forest 4/7/2010
27. Beyond Kerguelen 1/1/2004
28. Bill The Bullock-Driver 4/7/2010
29. Billy Vickers 1/1/2004
30. Black Kate 4/7/2010
31. Black Lizzie 4/7/2010
32. Blue Mountain Pioneers 4/7/2010
33. Bob 4/7/2010
34. By The Cliffs Of The Sea 4/7/2010
35. By The Sea 4/7/2010
36. Campaspe 4/7/2010
37. Camped By The Creek 4/7/2010
38. Caroline Chisholm 4/7/2010
39. Charles Harpur 1/1/2004
40. Christmas Creek 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

Araluen

Take this rose, and very gently place it on the tender, deep
Mosses where our little darling, Araluen, lies asleep.
Put the blossom close to baby -- kneel with me, my love, and pray;
We must leave the bird we've buried -- say good-bye to her to-day;
In the shadow of our trouble we must go to other lands,
And the flowers we have fostered will be left to other hands.
Other eyes will watch them growing -- other feet will softly tread
Where two hearts are nearly breaking, where so many

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