Roderic Quinn

(1867 - 1949 / Australia)

Roderic Quinn Poems

41. The Black Hound 4/16/2010
42. The Camp Within The West 1/1/2004
43. The Circling Hearths 1/1/2004
44. The Counsellors 4/16/2010
45. The Currency Lass 4/16/2010
46. The Dread Beyond Death 4/16/2010
47. The Drover Of The Stars 4/16/2010
48. The Fiddle And The Crowd 4/16/2010
49. The Fisher 4/16/2010
50. The Frontier-Land 4/16/2010
51. The Gardener 4/16/2010
52. The Golden Yesterday 4/16/2010
53. The Greater Love 4/16/2010
54. The Hidden Heart 4/16/2010
55. The Hidden Tide 1/1/2004
56. The House Of The Commonwealth 1/4/2003
57. The Lagoon 4/16/2010
58. The Little House 4/16/2010
59. The Long, Lone Road 4/16/2010
60. The Lotus-Flower 1/4/2003
61. The Lovers' Walk 4/16/2010
62. The Master-Man 4/16/2010
63. The Red Mist 4/16/2010
64. The Red-Tressed Maiden 4/16/2010
65. The River And The Road 4/16/2010
66. The Scarlet Cloak 4/16/2010
67. The Sea-Seekers 4/16/2010
68. The Secret Pool 4/16/2010
69. The Seeker 4/16/2010
70. The Shadow-Third 4/16/2010
71. The Song 4/16/2010
72. The Song Of The Cicadas 1/1/2004
73. The Song Of The Violin 4/16/2010
74. The Soul Of The Anzac 4/16/2010
75. The Surrender 4/16/2010
76. The Swamp 4/16/2010
77. The Three Knocks 4/16/2010
78. The Threshold Stone 4/16/2010
79. The Turn Of The Road 4/16/2010
80. The Twenty-Fifth Of April 4/16/2010
Best Poem of Roderic Quinn

A Song Of Keats

'TIS a tarnished book and old,
Edges frayed and covers green!
But, between the covers, gold —
Gold and jewels in between.
And this written (see, O see!
How old Time has made it dim)
'For one song Keats gave to me
I kneel down and worship him.'
He who wrote these lines is dust;
All of him is passed away;
Some hand closed his eyes, I trust,
Drew the blind to darken day.
Did lips kiss him at the end,
Love-lips tremulous yet brave?
Had he mistress, child, or friend
To sow green grass upon his grave?
Nay, we know not — it is long
Since he tired of ...

Read the full of A Song Of Keats

Mid-Forest Fear


SHE is standing at the gate,
Tall and sweet,
And although the hour be late
She will greet
Me, her lover,
Smiling over
Absent mind and tardy feet.

[Hata Bildir]