Henry Kendall

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

Henry Kendall Poems

161. The Ivy On The Wall 4/7/2010
162. The Last Of His Tribe 1/1/2004
163. The Late W. V. Wild, Esq. 4/7/2010
164. The Maid Of Gerringong 4/7/2010
165. The Melbourne International Exhibition 4/7/2010
166. The Merchant Ship 4/7/2010
167. The Muse Of Australia 1/1/2004
168. The Old Year 4/7/2010
169. The Opossum-Hunters 4/7/2010
170. The Rain Comes Sobbing To The Door 4/7/2010
171. The River And The Hill 1/1/2004
172. The Song Of Arda: (From “annatanam”.) 4/7/2010
173. The Song Of Ninian Melville 4/7/2010
174. The Sydney International Exhibition 4/7/2010
175. The Voice In The Wild Oak 4/7/2010
176. The Voyage Of Telegonus 4/7/2010
177. The Wail In The Native Oak 4/7/2010
178. The Warrigal 4/7/2010
179. The Waterfall 4/7/2010
180. The Wild Kangaroo 4/7/2010
181. To - - 4/7/2010
182. To A Mountain 1/4/2003
183. To Damascus 4/7/2010
184. To Henry Halloran 4/7/2010
185. To Miss Annie Hopkins 4/7/2010
186. To My Brother, Basil E. Kendall 4/7/2010
187. To The Spirit Of Music 4/7/2010
188. Ulmarra 4/7/2010
189. Under The Figtree 4/7/2010
190. Urara 4/7/2010
191. Waiting And Wishing 4/7/2010
192. Wamberal 4/7/2010
193. Watching 4/7/2010
194. When Underneath The Brown Dead Grass 4/7/2010
195. William Bede Dalley 4/7/2010
196. Wollongong 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

[Hata Bildir]