Kenneth Slessor (27 March 1901 – 30 June 1971 / Orange, New South Wales)
Quotations
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''And tried to hear your voice, but all I heard
Kenneth Slessor (1901-1971), Australian poet, journalist. Five Bells (l. 124-128). . . Poetry in Australia, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: From the Ballads to Brennan, T. Inglis Moore, comp.; Vol. II: Modern Australian Verse, Douglas Stewart, comp. (1965) University of California Press.
Was a boat's whistle, and the scraping squeal
Of seabird's voices far away, and bells,
Five bells. Five bells coldly ringing out.
Five bells.'' -
''These funeral-cakes of sweet and sculptured stone.''
Kenneth Slessor (1901-1971), Australian poet, journalist. Five Bells (l. 96). . . Poetry in Australia, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: From the Ballads to Brennan, T. Inglis Moore, comp.; Vol. II: Modern Australian Verse, Douglas Stewart, comp. (1965) University of California Press. -
''Time that is moved by little fidget wheels
Kenneth Slessor (1901-1971), Australian poet, journalist. Five Bells (l. 1-2). . . Poetry in Australia, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: From the Ballads to Brennan, T. Inglis Moore, comp.; Vol. II: Modern Australian Verse, Douglas Stewart, comp. (1965) University of California Press.
Is not my Time,'' -
''Are you shouting at me, dead man, squeezing your face
Kenneth Slessor (1901-1971), Australian poet, journalist. Five Bells (l. 20-22). . . Poetry in Australia, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: From the Ballads to Brennan, T. Inglis Moore, comp.; Vol. II: Modern Australian Verse, Douglas Stewart, comp. (1965) University of California Press.
In agonies of speech on speechless panes?
Cry louder, beat the windows, bawl your name!'' -
''Where have you gone? The tide is over you,
Kenneth Slessor (1901-1971), Australian poet, journalist. Five Bells (l. 97-100). . . Poetry in Australia, Vols. I-II. Vol. I: From the Ballads to Brennan, T. Inglis Moore, comp.; Vol. II: Modern Australian Verse, Douglas Stewart, comp. (1965) University of California Press.
The turn of midnight water's over you,
As Time is over you, and mystery,
And memory, the flood that does not flow.''
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Five Bells
Time that is moved by little fidget wheels
Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.
Between the double and the single bell
Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells
From the dark warship riding there below,
I have lived many lives, and this one life
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells.
Deep and dissolving verticals of light
