James Brunton Stephens

(17 June 1835 – 29 June 1902 / Borrowstounness, on the Firth of Forth, Scotland;)

James Brunton Stephens Poems

1. Night 1/4/2003
2. “big Ben” 3/3/2010
3. Check 4/16/2010
4. A Son Of The Soil 3/3/2010
5. Australian Anthem 3/3/2010
6. King Billy's Skull. 4/16/2010
7. A Brisbane Reverie 3/3/2010
8. Born Before His Time 3/3/2010
9. Marsupial Bill 3/3/2010
10. Macaulay's New Zealander 3/3/2010
11. A Coin Of Trajan In Australia 3/3/2010
12. Universally Respected 3/3/2010
13. Adelaide Ironside 3/3/2010
14. For My Sake 3/3/2010
15. The Dark Companion 1/4/2003
16. A Visit From Abroad 4/16/2010
17. From An Upper Verandah 3/3/2010
18. A Lost Chance 3/3/2010
19. A Historical Problem 3/3/2010
20. Brunton Stephens 3/3/2010
21. Spirit Of Song 1/4/2003
22. Cape Byron 3/3/2010
23. Had I But Known 3/3/2010
24. A Piccaninny 3/3/2010
25. The Southern Cross 3/3/2010
26. Drought And Doctrine 3/3/2010
27. In A 'Bus 3/3/2010
28. Johnsonian Address 3/3/2010
29. Day 1/4/2003
30. The Dominion Of Australia 3/3/2010
31. The Famine In Ireland 3/3/2010
32. The Midnight Axe 3/3/2010
33. New Chum And Old Monarch 3/3/2010
34. The Headless Trooper 3/3/2010
35. The Squatter's Baccy Famine 3/3/2010
36. The Great Pig Story Of The Tweed 3/3/2010
37. The Power Of Science 3/3/2010
38. The Turn Of The Road 4/16/2010
39. The Dominion 3/3/2010
40. The Goths In Campania (Placidia, In The Tent Of Adolphus.) 3/3/2010
Best Poem of James Brunton Stephens

Night

Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joy-laden sighs;
Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic,
   Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies.

Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian;
   Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod;
Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion,
   Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of God;

Luminous streams of delight in the silent ...

Read the full of Night

Not Understood

Not understood, we move along asunder;
   Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep
Along the years; we marvel and we wonder
   Why life is life, and then we fall asleep
   Not understood.

Not understood, we gather false impressions
   And hug them closer as the years go by;
Till virtues often seem to us transgressions;

[Hata Bildir]