Henry Kendall

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

Henry Kendall Poems

41. Clari 4/7/2010
42. Cleone 4/7/2010
43. Coogee 4/7/2010
44. Cooranbean 4/7/2010
45. Cui Bono? 4/7/2010
46. Daniel Henry Deniehy 1/1/2004
47. Daphne 4/7/2010
48. Dedication 4/7/2010
49. Deniehy’s Dream 4/7/2010
50. Deniehy’s Lament 4/7/2010
51. Doubting 4/7/2010
52. Drowned At Sea 4/7/2010
53. Dungog 4/7/2010
54. Eighteen Hundred And Sixty-Four 4/7/2010
55. Elijah 4/7/2010
56. Ella With The Shining Hair 4/7/2010
57. Etheline 1/1/2004
58. Euroclydon 4/7/2010
59. Euterpe 4/7/2010
60. Euterpe: A Cantanta 4/7/2010
61. Evening Hymn 4/7/2010
62. Extempore Lines 4/7/2010
63. Fainting By The Way 4/7/2010
64. Faith In God 4/7/2010
65. Footfalls 4/7/2010
66. For Ever 4/7/2010
67. Foreshadowings 4/7/2010
68. From The Forests 4/7/2010
69. Galatea 4/7/2010
70. Geraldine 4/7/2010
71. Ghost Glen 4/7/2010
72. God Help Our Men At Sea 4/7/2010
73. Harps We Love 4/7/2010
74. Heath From The Highlands 4/7/2010
75. How The Melbourne Cup Was Won 4/7/2010
76. Hunted Down 4/7/2010
77. Hy-Brasil 1/4/2003
78. Hymn Of Praise 4/7/2010
79. Illa Creek 4/7/2010
80. In Memoriam -- A. L. Gordon 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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