John Le Gay Brereton
John was the son of a doctor of the same name who came to Sydney in 1859. Dr Brereton rapidly established himself in his profession and sired a large family. Among his other achievements, he set up Australia's first Turkish Bath in Spring Street and following its success, opened larger premises in Bligh Street on 14 March, 1861. Originally a Quaker, Dr Brereton was converted to the teachings of Swedenborg and became a leader of the New Jerusalem Church, the tenets of which underlay his several published volumes of poetry and didactic prose.
John Le Gay Brereton the Younger (as he was always known) was the fifth son, born in the family’s home in Richmond Terrace, which then ... more »
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John Le Gay Brereton Poems
Within my heart I hear the cry Of loves that suffer, souls that die, And you may have no praise from me For warfare's vast vulgarity;
The Bold Buccaneer
One very rough day on the Pride of the Fray In the scuppers a poor little cabin-boy lay, When the Bosun drew nigh with wrath in his eye And gave him a kick to remember him by,
Stupidity and Selfishness and Fear, Who hold enslaved the intellect of Man, Have found their victims here.
"Where shall we dwell?" say you. Wandering winds reply: "In a temple with roof of blue -- Under the splendid sky."
The War After The War
I. Yonder, with eyes that tears, not distance, dim, With ears the wide world's thickness cannot daunt, We see tumultuous miseries that haunt
The heart is deaf that cannot hear The splashing of a tiny tear.
OUR little queen of dreams, Our image of delight, Which whitens east and gleams And beckons from the height,
When fires have burnt your forest bare and black, And you are parched and dizzy, and search in vain For pools in dust unvisited of rain,
The Sea Maid
In what pearl-paven mossy cave By what green sea Art thou reclining, virgin of the wave, In realms more full of splendid mystery
By ceaseless waves, that break and waste, All human record is effaced: Only our love in brief defence
Hail to you, comrades, who have won, Where the torn lines of battle run By tattered town and ruined mead, The honour that men give with pride
At The Age Of 35
Gone are the aching want, the unceasing fret, Mad flight and moaning over battered wings, And self-contempt whose secret penance wrings Out of the writhing soul her bloody sweat.
“Our loss was light,” the paper said, “Compared with damage to the Hun”: She was a widow, and she read One name upon the list of dead
Love Is Blind
And can you tell me Love is blind Because your faults he will not find, Because the image that he sees Is one of splendid mysteries?
Comments about John Le Gay Brereton
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Within my heart I hear the cry
Of loves that suffer, souls that die,
And you may have no praise from me
For warfare's vast vulgarity;
Only the flag of love, unfurled
For peace above a weeping world,
I follow, though the fiery breath
Of murder shrivel me in death.
Yet here I stand and bow my head
To those whom other banners led,
Because within their hearts the clang
Of Freedom's summoning trumpets rang,
Because they welcomed grisly pain
And laughed at prudence, mocked at gain,
With noble hope and courage high,
And taught our manhood how to ...