Victor James Daley
Victor James William Patrick Daley was an Australian poet.
He was born at the Navan, County Armagh, Ireland, and was educated at the Christian Brothers at Devonport in England. He arrived in Australia in 1878, and became a freelance journalist and writer in both Melbourne and Sydney. Whilst in Melbourne, he met and became a friend of Marcus Clarke; later, in Sydney, he became acquainted with Henry Kendall. He is notable for becoming the first author in Australia who tried to earn a living from writing alone. In Sydney in 1898, he founded the bohemian Dawn and Dusk Club, which had many notable members such as writer Henry Lawson. He died at Sydney of tuberculosis.
He ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Victor James Daley Poems
On a golden dawn in the dawn sublime Of years ere the stars had ceased to sing, Beautiful out of the sea-deeps cold Aphrodite arose—the Flower of Time—
At Dawn and Dusk
At Dawn and Dusk Love-Laurel IN MEMORY OF HENRY KENDALL
BY his side, whose days are past, Lay bow and quiver! And his eyes that stare aghast Close, with a shiver.
Day and Night
DAY goeth bold in cloth of gold, A royal bridegroom he; But Night in jewelled purple walks— A Queen of Mystery.
Christmas in Australia
O DAY, the crown and crest of all the year! Thou comest not to us amid the snows, But midmost of the reign of the red rose; Our hearts have not yet lost the ancient cheer
Bouquet and Bracelet
Bouquet said: “My floral ring The homage of a heart encloses, Whose thoughts to you go worshipping In perfume from my blushing roses.”
The Sun burns fiercely down the skies; The sea is full of flashing eyes; The waves glide shoreward serpentwise And fawn with foamy tongues on stark
When trees in Spring Are blossoming My lady wakes From dreams whose light
HAVING certain cares to drown, To the sea I took them down: And I threw them in the wave, That engulfed them like a grave.
The pale discrowned stacks of maize, Like spectres in the sun, Stand shivering nigh Avonaise, Where all is dead and gone.
WHEN the sap runs up the tree. And the vine runs o’er the wall, When the blossom draws the bee, From the forest comes a call,
Fragments Pts 1, 11, 111
These broken lines for pardon crave; I cannot end the song with art: My grief is gray and old—her grave Is dug so deep within my heart.
I HAVE been dreaming all a summer day Of rare and dainty poems I would write; Love-lyrics delicate as lilac-scent, Soft idylls woven of wind, and flower, and stream,
The awful seers of old who wrote, in words Like drops of blood, great thoughts that through the night Of ages burn, as eyes of lions light Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with songs like swords
Comments about Victor James Daley
(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)
On a golden dawn in the dawn sublime
Of years ere the stars had ceased to sing,
Beautiful out of the sea-deeps cold
Aphrodite arose—the Flower of Time—
That, dear till the day of her blossoming,
The old, old Sea had borne in his heart.
Around her worshipping waves did part
Tremulous—glowing in rose and gold.
And the birds broke forth into singing sweet,
And flowers born scentless breathed perfume:
Softly she smiled upon Man forlorn,
And the music of love in his wild heart beat,
And down to the pit went his gods of gloom,
And earth grew bright and fair as...