The daughter of law clerk John Andrew Murdoch and his wife Rebecca (Murphy), Nina grew up in the small town of Woodburn, NSW. She attended the Sydney Girls' High School from 1904 until 1907, and then taught at the Sydney Boys' Preparatory School.
Nina began writing poetry whilst still at high school and published many of her poems in The Bulletin between 1913 - 1922. In 1913 she won the Bulletin prize for a sonnet about Canberra. She worked for the Sydney Sun and became one of the first women general reporters. She married in 1917.
Nina died in 1976. more »
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Nina Murdoch Poems
There has been wrong done since the world began. That young men should go out and die in war, And lie face down in the dust for a brief span,
The Braemar Road
The road that leads to Braemar winds ever in and out. It wanders here and dawdles there, and trips and turns about Like a child upon an errand that play has put to rout. By the road that leads to Braemar, the greybeard poplars stand,
Sing a Song of War-Time
Sing a Song of War-time, Soldiers marching by, Crowds of people standing, Waving them ‘Good-bye’,
Comments about Nina Murdoch
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
There has been wrong done since the world began.
That young men should go out and die in war,
And lie face down in the dust for a brief span,
And be not good to look at anymore.
It is the old men with their crafty eyes
And greedy fingers and their feeble lungs,
Make mischief in the world and are called wise,
And bring war on us with their garrulous tongues.
It is the old men hid in secret rooms,
Feign wisdom while they sign our peace away,
And turn fair meadows into reeking tombs,
And passionate bridegrooms into bloodied clay.
It is the old men ...