Thomas Alexander Browne (`Rolf Boldrewood') Poems

Hold hard, Ned! Lift me down once more, and lay me in the shade.
   Old man, you've had your work cut out to guide
Both horses, and to hold me in the saddle when I swayed,
   All through the hot, slow, sleepy, silent ride.
...

We severed in Autumn early,
   Ere the earth was torn by the plough;
The wheat and the oats and the barley
   Are ripe for the harvest now.
...

They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less
   Of sound than of words,
In lands where bright blossoms are scentless,
   And songless bright birds;
...

She is beautiful yet, with her wondrous hair
   And eyes that are stormy with fitful light,
The delicate hues of brow and cheek
   Are unmarred all, rose-clear and bright;
...