Henry Kendall

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

Henry Kendall Poems

121. On A Street 4/7/2010
122. On The Paroo 4/7/2010
123. Orara 1/1/2004
124. Our Jack 4/7/2010
125. Outre Mer 1/4/2003
126. Passing Away 4/7/2010
127. Persia 4/7/2010
128. Peter The Piccaninny 4/7/2010
129. Prefatory Sonnets I 1/4/2003
130. Pytheas 4/7/2010
131. Rizpah 4/7/2010
132. Robert Parkes 4/7/2010
133. Rose Lorraine 1/4/2003
134. Safi 4/7/2010
135. Sedan 4/7/2010
136. September In Australia 1/4/2003
137. Silent Tears 4/7/2010
138. Sitting By The Fire 4/7/2010
139. Song Of The Cattle Hunters 1/1/2004
140. Song Of The Shingle-Splitters 1/1/2004
141. Sonnets On The Discovery Of Botany Bay By Captain Cook 4/7/2010
142. Stanzas 4/7/2010
143. Sutherland’s Grave 4/7/2010
144. Sydney Exhibition Cantata 4/7/2010
145. Sydney Harbour 4/7/2010
146. Syrinx 4/7/2010
147. The Austral Months 4/7/2010
148. The Australian Emigrant 4/7/2010
149. The Ballad Of Tanna 4/7/2010
150. The Barcoo 1/1/2004
151. The Bereaved One 4/7/2010
152. The Curlew Song 4/7/2010
153. The Curse Of Mother Flood 4/7/2010
154. The Earth Laments For Day 4/7/2010
155. The Far Future 4/7/2010
156. The Fate Of The Explorers (A Fragment) 4/7/2010
157. The Girl I Left Behind Me 4/7/2010
158. The Glen Of Arrawatta 4/7/2010
159. The Helmsman 4/7/2010
160. The Hut By The Black Swamp 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

Kiama

Towards the hills of Jamberoo
Some few fantastic shadows haste,
Uplit with fires
Like castle spires
Outshining through a mirage waste.
Behold, a mournful glory sits
On feathered ferns and woven brakes,
Where sobbing wild like restless child
The gusty breeze of evening wakes!

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