The Wake

The white ship slides serene, wind-blown,

heedless of its human burthen

while laying wakes but swiftly flown.

Mile-on-mile the dance of heathen

sunbursts play on flashing waters

pretty as maids, or bonds that weaken

as the leaving fades. The snows that fought us

in winters past, tall drifts in proud array,

melt clear in spring before our youngest daugh...

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Three Nocturnes

While poring over dusty corners of an ancient night

I sang in darken'd evening flight, a voice edged

by the pain of doubt, a tempered blade to fight

an inner shout; the fearful dredge

of insomnia, the purgatory of my silent gaze;

remembrance too of sultry Australian dog days.

South-West karris loom ink-black, and rustle

as night-walkers, stepp...

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