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With evil shapes of dreams distressed, -
But perfect quiet, unexpressed

By any worldly word we keep.
The dim Hereafter framed in creeds

May not be this; but He who reads
Our lives, sets flowers on wayside weeds -

``He giveth His beloved sleep.''
Page: 119

Be sure this hero who has passed
The human space - the outer vast -

Who worked in harness to the last,
Doth now a hallowedharvest reap.

Love sees his grave, nor turns away -
The eyes of faith are like the day,

And grief has not a word to say -
``He giveth His beloved sleep.''

That fair, rare spirit, Honour, throws
A light, which puts to shame the rose,

Across his grave, because she knows
The son whose ashes it doth keep;

And, like far music, this is heard -
``Behold the man who never stirred,

By word of his, an angry word! -
`He giveth His beloved sleep.'''

Page: 120
He earned his place. Within his hands,

The power which counsels and commands,
And shapes the social life of lands,

Became a blessing pure and deep.
Note:The Press

Through thirty years of turbulence
Our thoughts were sweetened with a sense

Of his benignant influence -
``He giveth His beloved sleep.''

No splendid talents, which excite
Like music, songs, or floods of light,

Were his; but, rather, all those bright,
Calm qualities of soul which reap

A mute, but certain, fine respect,
Not only from a source elect,

But from the hearts of every sect -
``He giveth His beloved sleep.''

Page: 121
He giveth His beloved rest!

The faithful soul that onward pressed,
Unswerving, from Life's east to west,

By paths austere and passes steep,
Is past all toil; and, over Death,

With reverent hands and prayerful breath,
I plant this flower, alive with faith -

``He giveth His beloved sleep.''
Page: 122

ARALUEN
TAKE this rose, and very gently place it on the tender, deep

Mosses where our little darling, Araluen, lies asleep.
Put the blossom close to baby - kneel with me, my love, and pray;

We must leave the bird we've buried - say good-bye to her to-day.
In the shadow of our trouble we must go to other lands,

And the flowers we have fostered will be left to other hands:
Other eyes will watch them growing - other feet will softly tread

Page: 123
Where two hearts are nearly breaking, where so many tears are shed.

Bitter is the world we live in: life and love are mixed with pain;
We will never see these daisies - never water them again.

Ah! the saddest thought in leaving baby in this bush alone
Is that we have not been able on her grave to place a stone:

We have been too poor to do it; but, my darling, never mind -
God is in the gracious heavens, and His sun and rain are kind:

They will dress the spot with beauty, they will make the grasses grow:
Many winds will lull our birdie, many songs will come and go.

Page: 124
Here the blue-eyed Spring will linger, here the shining month will stay,

Like a friend, by Araluen, when we two are far away;
But beyond the wild, wide waters, we will tread another shore -

We will never watch this blossom, never see it any more.
Girl, whose hand at God's high altar in the dear, dead year I pressed,

Lean your stricken head upon me - this is still your lover's breast!
She who sleeps was first and sweetest - none we have to take her place;

Empty is the little cradle - absent is the little face.
Other children may be given; but this rose beyond recall,

But this garland of your girlhood, will be dearest of them all.
Page: 125

None will ever, Araluen, nestle where you used to be,
In my heart of hearts, you darling, when the world was new to me;

We were young when you were with us, life and love were happy things
To your father and your mother ere the angels gave you wings.

You that sit and sob beside me - you, upon whose golden head
Many rains of many sorrows have from day to day been shed;

Who because your love was noble, faced with me the lot austere
Ever pressing with its hardship on the man of letters here -

Let me feel that you are near me, lay your hand within mine own;
Page: 126

You are all I have to live for, now that we are left alone.
Three there were, but one has vanished. Sins of mine have made you weep;

But forgive your baby's father now that baby is asleep.
Let us go, for night is falling; leave the darling with her flowers;

Other hands will come and tend them - other friends in other hours.
Page: 127

THE SYDNEY INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION
(A Prize Poem published with the kind permission of the

Proprietors of the ``Sydney Morning Herald'')
NOW, while Orion, flaming south, doth set

A shining foot on hills of wind and wet -
Far haughty hills beyond the fountains cold

And dells of glimmering greenness manifold -
While August sings the advent of the Spring,

And in the calm is heard September's wing,
The lordly voice of song I ask of thee,

High, deathless radiance - crowned Calliope!
What though we never hear the great god's lays

Which made all music the Hellenic days -
Page: 128

What though the face of thy fair heaven beams
Still only on the crystal Grecian streams -

What though a sky of new, strange beauty shines
Where no white Dryad sings within the pines:

Here is a land whose large, imperial grace
Must tempt thee, goddess, in thine holy place!

Here are the dells of peace and plenilune,
The hills of morning and the slopes of noon;

Here are the waters dear to days of blue,
And dark-green hollows of the noontide dew;

Here lies the harp, by fragrant wood-winds fanned,
That waits the coming of thy quickening hand!

And shall Australia, framed and set in sea,
August with glory, wait in vain for thee?

Shall more than Tempe's beauty be unsung
Because its shine is strange - its colours young?

No! by the full, live light which puts to shame
The far, fair splendours of Thessalian flame -

By yonder forest psalm which sinks and swells
Like that of Phocis, grave with oracles -

Page: 129
By deep prophetic winds that come and go

Where whispering springs of pondering mountains flow -
By lute-like leaves and many-languaged caves,

Where sounds the strong hosanna of the waves,
This great new majesty shall not remain

Unhonoured by the high immortal strain!
Soon, soon, the music of the southern lyre

Shall start and blossom with a speech like fire!
Soon, soon, shall flower and flow in flame divine

Thy songs, Apollo, and Euterpe, thine!
Strong, shining sons of Delphicus shall rise

With all their father's glory in their eyes;
And then shall beam on yonder slopes and springs

The light that swims upon the light of things.
And therefore, lingering in a land of lawn,

I, standing here, a singer of the dawn,
With gaze upturned to where wan summits lie

Against the morning flowing up the sky -
Whose eyes in dreams of many colours see

Page: 130
A glittering vision of the years to be -

Do ask of thee, Calliope, one hour
Of life pre-eminent with perfect power,

That I may leave a song whose lonely rays
May shine hereafter from these songless days.

For now there breaks across the faint grey range
The rose-red dawning of a radiant change.

A soft, sweet voice is in the valleys deep,
Where darkness droops and sings itself to sleep.

The grave, mute woods, that yet the silence hold
Of dim, dead ages, gleam with hints of gold.

Yon eastern cape that meets the straitened wave -
A twofold tower above the whistling cave -

Whose strength in thunder shields the gentle lea,
And makes a white wrath of a league of sea,

Now wears the face of peace; and in the bay
The weak, spent voice of Winter dies away.

Page: 131
In every dell there is a whispering wing,

On every lawn a glimmer of the Spring;
By every hill are growths of tender green -

On every slope a fair, new life is seen;
And lo! beneath the morning's blossoming fires,

The shining city of a hundred spires,
In mists of gold, by countless havens furled,

And glad with all the flags of all the world!
These are the shores, where, in a dream of fear,

Cathay saw darkness dwelling half the year!
Note:According to that eminent authority, Mr.R.H.Major,

and others, the Great Southern Land is referred to in
old Chinese records as a polar continent, subject to the long polar nights.

These are the coasts that old fallacious tales
Chained down with ice and ringed with sleepless gales!

This is the land that, in the hour of awe,
Page: 132

From Indian peaks the rapt Venetian saw!
Note:Marco Polo mentions a large land called by the Malays Lochac.

The northern coast was supposed to be in
latitude 10[degree]S. (Vide Bennett, and others.

Here is the long grey line of strange sea wall
That checked the prow of the audacious Gaul,

What time he steered towards the southern snow,
From zone to zone, four hundred years ago!

Note:Mr. R.H.Major has discovered a map of Terra Australis
dated A.D. 1542, and bearing the name of Le Testu,

a French pilot. Le Testu must have visited these coasts
some years before the date of the chart.

By yonder gulf, whose marching waters meet


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