Henry Kendall

(18 April 1839 – 1 August 1882 / Ulladulla, New South Wales)

Henry Kendall Poems

1. Araluen 1/4/2003
2. After Many Years 1/4/2003
3. James Lionel Michael 1/1/2004
4. Kiama 1/1/2004
5. Kooroora 1/1/2004
6. Achan 1/1/2004
7. To A Mountain 1/4/2003
8. Prefatory Sonnets I 1/4/2003
9. Orara 1/1/2004
10. Aileen 1/1/2004
11. Amongst The Roses 1/1/2004
12. Etheline 1/1/2004
13. Rose Lorraine 1/4/2003
14. A Mountain Spring 1/1/2004
15. A Spanish Love Song 1/1/2004
16. September In Australia 1/4/2003
17. Outre Mer 1/4/2003
18. Beyond Kerguelen 1/1/2004
19. Billy Vickers 1/1/2004
20. News Of War 1/1/2004
21. Song Of The Shingle-Splitters 1/1/2004
22. Song Of The Cattle Hunters 1/1/2004
23. The Last Of His Tribe 1/1/2004
24. Arakoon 1/1/2004
25. Astarte 1/1/2004
26. The Barcoo 1/1/2004
27. Daniel Henry Deniehy 1/1/2004
28. The Muse Of Australia 1/1/2004
29. The River And The Hill 1/1/2004
30. ~araluen~ 1/1/2004
31. A Hyde Park Larrikin 1/1/2004
32. Charles Harpur 1/1/2004
33. Hy-Brasil 1/4/2003
34. Aboriginal Death Song 1/1/2004
35. After The Hunt 1/1/2004
36. A Birthday Trifle 4/7/2010
37. A Day Of Dream 4/7/2010
38. A Death In The Bush 4/7/2010
39. At Dusk 4/7/2010
40. At Euroma 4/7/2010
Best Poem of Henry Kendall

After Many Years

The song that once I dreamed about,
   The tender, touching thing,
As radiant as the rose without,
   The love of wind and wing:
The perfect verses, to the tune
   Of woodland music set,
As beautiful as afternoon,
   Remain unwritten yet.

It is too late to write them now --
   The ancient fire is cold;
No ardent lights illume the brow,
   As in the days of old.
I cannot dream the dream again;
   But, when the happy birds
Are ...

Read the full of After Many Years

Araluen

Take this rose, and very gently place it on the tender, deep
Mosses where our little darling, Araluen, lies asleep.
Put the blossom close to baby -- kneel with me, my love, and pray;
We must leave the bird we've buried -- say good-bye to her to-day;
In the shadow of our trouble we must go to other lands,
And the flowers we have fostered will be left to other hands.
Other eyes will watch them growing -- other feet will softly tread
Where two hearts are nearly breaking, where so many

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