James Brunton Stephens

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

James Brunton Stephens Poems

1. “big Ben” 3/3/2010
2. A Brisbane Reverie 3/3/2010
3. A Coin Of Trajan In Australia 3/3/2010
4. A Historical Problem 3/3/2010
5. A Lost Chance 3/3/2010
6. A Piccaninny 3/3/2010
7. A Son Of The Soil 3/3/2010
8. A Visit From Abroad 4/16/2010
9. Adelaide Ironside 3/3/2010
10. Australian Anthem 3/3/2010
11. Born Before His Time 3/3/2010
12. Brunton Stephens 3/3/2010
13. Cape Byron 3/3/2010
14. Check 4/16/2010
15. Day 1/4/2003
16. Drought And Doctrine 3/3/2010
17. For My Sake 3/3/2010
18. From An Upper Verandah 3/3/2010
19. Had I But Known 3/3/2010
20. Hate 5/6/2011
21. In A 'Bus 3/3/2010
22. Johnsonian Address 3/3/2010
23. King Billy's Skull. 4/16/2010
24. Macaulay's New Zealander 3/3/2010
25. Marsupial Bill 3/3/2010
26. Marsupial Bill: Part Second. 4/16/2010
27. Mute Discourse 3/3/2010
28. My Chinee Cook 3/3/2010
29. My Other Chinee Cook 3/3/2010
30. New Chum And Old Monarch 3/3/2010
31. Night 1/4/2003
32. Nonsuited 3/3/2010
33. Not Understood 1/4/2003
34. Off The Track 3/3/2010
35. On A Fork Of Byron's 3/3/2010
36. Once More 3/3/2010
37. Opening Hymn 3/3/2010
38. Part Second 3/3/2010
39. Progress In The Pacific 3/3/2010
40. Psalm Xc 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

Day

Linger, oh Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million!
   Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West?
Hast thou no joy in the passion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion?
   Why shouldst thou only pass through it? Oh rest thee a little while, rest!

Why should the Night come and take it, the wan Night that cannot enjoy it,
   Bringing pale argent for golden, and changing vermilion to grey?
Why should the N

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