Charles Harpur

(23 January 1813 – 10 June 1868 / Windsor, New South Wales)

Charles Harpur Poems

81. Never Mind 4/12/2010
82. The Tear 1/1/2004
83. Love 1/1/2004
84. The Past 1/1/2004
85. To - 1/1/2004
86. The Battle Of Life 1/1/2004
87. To Doctor Lang 1/1/2004
88. Andrew Marvell 1/1/2004
89. Shakespeare 1/1/2004
90. Description Of A Tropical Island 1/1/2004
91. Love Sonnets 1/1/2004
92. Ned Connor 4/12/2010
93. The Anchor 1/1/2004
94. To The Moon 1/1/2004
95. A Coast View 1/1/2004
96. Early Summer 1/1/2004
97. A Poet's Home 4/12/2010
98. Dora 1/1/2004
99. A Dream Of The Orient 1/1/2004
100. Absence 4/12/2010
101. An Anthem For The Australasian League 4/12/2010
102. A Hunter's Indian Dove 1/1/2004
103. Asking In Vain 1/1/2004
104. A Sonnet Dedicated To Sir George Gipps 4/12/2010
105. Collins 4/12/2010
106. A Similitude 1/1/2004
107. Bush Justice 4/12/2010
108. Burns 4/12/2010
109. A Flight Of Wild Ducks 4/12/2010
110. The Temperance Movement 1/1/2004
111. Change And Death 1/1/2004
112. A Basket Of Summer Fruit 4/12/2010
113. Coleridge's Cristabel 1/1/2004
114. Australia's First Great Poet 1/1/2004
115. A Love Fancy 1/1/2004
116. A Poet To... 1/1/2004
117. Trust In God 1/1/2004
118. Cora 1/1/2004
119. A Lament 1/1/2004
120. An Aboriginal Mothers's Lament 1/1/2004

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Best Poem of Charles Harpur

A Midsummer Noon In The Australian Forest

A MIDSUMMER NOON IN THE AUSTRALIAN FOREST

Not a bird disturbs the air!
There is quiet everywhere;
Over plains and over woods
What a mighty stillness broods.

Even the grasshoppers keep
[All the birds and insects keep]
Where the coolest shadows sleep;
Even the busy ants are found
Resting in their pebbled mound;
Even the locust clingeth now
In silence to the barky bough:
And over hills and over plains
Quiet, vast and slumbrous, reigns.

Only there's a drowsy humming
From yon warm lagoon slow coming:
'Tis the dragon-hornet ...

Read the full of A Midsummer Noon In The Australian Forest

Humanity

I dreamed I was a sculptor, and had wrought
Out of a towering adamantine crag
A mighty figure, stately, giant-limbed,
And with the face of a Homeric god.
Planted aloft upon the levelled cone
Of a vast tumulus, that seemed to swell
Above the sinking outline of the view
As up from the dusk past, firm fixed it stood,
Full in the face of the resplendent morn

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