Louisa Lawson (17 February 1848 - 12 August 1920) was an Australian writer, publisher, suffragist, and feminist.
Louisa Lawson was born and raised in Mudgee, New South Wales. The second of 12 children, her family were typical strugglers, and like many girls at that time left school at the age of thirteen. In 1866 she married Niels Larsen (Peter Lawson). Lawson's husband was often absent gold mining or working with his father-in-law, leaving her to raise four children - Henry b 1867, Charles b 1869, Peter b 1873, Annette b 1877 (died at 8 months) and Gertrude b 1877 - on her own. In 1882 she took her children and moved to Sydney. There, Lawson managed boarding houses and saved ... more »
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Louisa Lawson Poems
I am sitting by the river, And I while an hour away, Watching circles start and widen In their momentary play.
An Australian Song
Come gather, brave Australian sons, And join us in a song, And if you like the way it runs Then make it roll along.
The Digger's Daughter
The waratah has stained her cheek, Her lips are even brighter; Like virgin quartz without a streak Her teeth are, but far whiter.
Going round the back street. Through the silent lane, While the folks at church meet, Coming home again.
Just as the grey dawning could faintly be seen, One still summer's morning I dreamt a fair dream, I thought that my body was tenantless clay, And friends were preparing to lay it away,
Light in Darkness
Sickness, sorrow, death, disgrace, All of these I have to face ; Pain of body, fret of mind, Poverty, with bread to find.
Their path had divided, and never again Would merge into one as before it was twuin. The course of true love had run smoothly until It suddenly parted as strong currents will.
A Woman's Love
I cared not what they failings were They faults I would not see. I only knew I loved thee well And thought thee true to me.
Though labor may claim and cover The best of our waking hours, Whaterw we owe another, We feel that the dusk is ours;
I culled them fresh on the mountain side, Where they blossomed wild and free, They were emblems in the fair noontideFix this text Of my thoughts, dear friend, for thee.
A Birthday Wish
Oh, could I as I lift this pen Mark out thy destiny, I would have thee happy now as when Nurs'd at thy mother's knee.
To a Bird
Bright little warbler of the air. The world to thee I ween is fair, And free thy life from shade of care, So gaily dost thou sing.
I love at eve to wander Alone among the hills, While Nature and her myst'ries My soul with wonder filia.
I knew not what thy failings were, Thy faults I did not see, I only felt I loved thee well, And thou wert true to me.
Comments about Louisa Lawson
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I am sitting by the river,
And I while an hour away,
Watching circles start and widen
In their momentary play.
Here a stronger whelms a weaker
As its ring expanding flies,
There one rises to the surface,
As another fades and dies.
And I solemn grow with thinking,
For just now it would me seem,
That each life is like a circle -
On time's deep, impellant stream.
Do we not upon its bosom
Linger for a little day,
Making faint and fleeting impress,
Then forever fade away.
While the strong unresting river
Toward Eternity doth glide,