Henry Lawson Poems

THERE’S a pretty little story with a touch of moonlit glory
Comes from Beenleigh on the Logan, but we don’t know if it’s true;
...

I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
...

So the world of odds and evens ceased to trouble Harry Stephens,
and the niggard road no longer echoes to his lonely tread.
...

I want to be lighting my pipe on deck,
With my baggage safe below—
I want to be free of the crowded quay,
While the steamer’s swinging slow.
...

The short hour's halt is ended,
The red gone from the west,
The broken wheel is mended,
...

The creek went down with a broken song,
'Neath the sheoaks high;
The waters carried the song along,
...

We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were good—
’Twas paltry things that wrecked our lives
As well I knew they would.
...

He never drew a sword to fight a dozen foes alone,
Nor gave a life to save a life no better than his own.
...

When Charley sang of Polan’s Death
‘Twould stir your heart and soul an’
you’d grip your seat and hold your breath.
And want to fight for Polan’
...