John Shaw Neilson
John Shaw Neilson, was an Australian poet. Slightlybuilt, for most of his life, John Shaw Neilson worked as a labourer, fruit-picking, clearing scrub, navvying and working in quarries, and, after 1928, working as a messenger with the Country Roads Board in Melbourne. Largely untrained and only basically educated, Neilson became known as one of Australia's finest lyric poets, who wrote a great deal about the natural world, and the beauty in it.
Neilson was born in Penola, South Australia of purely Scottish ancestry. His grandparents were John Neilson and Jessie MacFarlane of Cupar, Neil Mackinnon of Skye, and Margaret Stuart of Greenock. His mother, Margaret ... more »
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John Shaw Neilson Poems
Beauty imposes reverence in the Spring, Grave as the urge within the honeybuds, It wounds us as we sing.
O Heart Of Spring
O HEART of Spring! Spirit of light and love and joyous day, So soon to faint beneath the fiery Summer: Still smiles the Earth, eager for thee alway:
QUIETLY as rosebuds Talk to thin air, Love came so lightly I knew not he was there.
The Orange Tree
The young girl stood beside me. I Saw not what her young eyes could see: - A light, she said, not of the sky Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.
The Poor, Poor Country
Oh 'twas a poor country, in Autumn it was bare, The only green was the cutting grass and the sheep found little there. Oh, the thin wheat and the brown oats were never two foot high, But down in the poor country no pauper was I.
The Land Where I Was Born
HAVE you ever been down to my countree Where the trees are green and tall? The days are long and the heavens are high, But the people there are small.
The Smoker Parrot
He has the full moon on his breast, The moonbeams are about hs wing; He has the colours of a king. I see him floating unto rest
The Meeting Of Sighs
YOUR voice was the rugged old voice that I knew; I gave the best grip of my greeting to you.
A Protest And A Protest
A certain old maid at Port Victor had many strange pets to afflict her, her Kangaroos fought with the emu's she caught
The Break Of Day
THE STARS are pale. Old is the Night, his case is grievous, His strength doth fail.
Native Companions Dancing
On the blue plains in wintry days The stately birds move in the dance. Keen eyes have they, and quaint old ways On the blue plains in wintry days.
Shyly the silver-hatted mushrooms make Soft entrance through, And undelivered lovers, half awake, Hear noises in the dew
Song Be Delicate
Let your song be delicate. The skies declare No war — the eyes of lovers Wake everywhere.
You And Yellow Air
YOU, AND YELLOW AIR by John Shaw Neilson I dream of an old kissing-time And the flowered follies there; In the dim place of cherry-trees,
Comments about John Shaw Neilson
Beauty imposes reverence in the Spring,
Grave as the urge within the honeybuds,
It wounds us as we sing.
Beauty is joy that stays not overlong.
Clad in the magic of sincerities,
It rides up in a song.
Beauty imposes chastenings on the heart,
Grave as the birds in last solemnities
Assembling to depart.