Henry Kendall

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

Henry Kendall Poems

41. Wamberal 4/7/2010
42. William Bede Dalley 4/7/2010
43. The Voyage Of Telegonus 4/7/2010
44. The Waterfall 4/7/2010
45. When Underneath The Brown Dead Grass 4/7/2010
46. Urara 4/7/2010
47. To My Brother, Basil E. Kendall 4/7/2010
48. To Damascus 4/7/2010
49. Sitting By The Fire 4/7/2010
50. Oh, Tell Me, Ye Breezes 4/7/2010
51. Narrara Creek 4/7/2010
52. In The Depths Of A Forest 4/7/2010
53. Euterpe: A Cantanta 4/7/2010
54. Heath From The Highlands 4/7/2010
55. To Henry Halloran 4/7/2010
56. The Warrigal 4/7/2010
57. Under The Figtree 4/7/2010
58. Sedan 4/7/2010
59. Silent Tears 4/7/2010
60. On A Cattle Track 4/7/2010
61. Moss On A Wall 4/7/2010
62. The Sydney International Exhibition 4/7/2010
63. The Merchant Ship 4/7/2010
64. The Opossum-Hunters 4/7/2010
65. Stanzas 4/7/2010
66. Mountains 4/7/2010
67. Geraldine 4/7/2010
68. Leichhardt 4/7/2010
69. Sydney Exhibition Cantata 4/7/2010
70. Syrinx 4/7/2010
71. The Fate Of The Explorers (A Fragment) 4/7/2010
72. The Song Of Ninian Melville 4/7/2010
73. Hymn Of Praise 4/7/2010
74. Illa Creek 4/7/2010
75. Mountain Moss 4/7/2010
76. Persia 4/7/2010
77. Achan 1/1/2004
78. Billy Vickers 1/1/2004
79. News Of War 1/1/2004
80. The Rain Comes Sobbing To The Door 4/7/2010
Best Poem of Henry Kendall

Amongst The Roses

I walked through a Forest, beneath the hot noon,
On Etheline calling and calling!
One said: “She will hear you and come to you soon,
When the coolness, my brother, is falling.”
But I whispered: “O Darling, I falter with pain!”
And the thirsty leaves rustled, and hissed for the rain,
Where a wayfarer halted and slept on the plain;
And dreamt of a garden of Roses!
Of a cool sweet place,
And a nestling face
In a dance and a dazzle of Roses.
In the drought of a Desert, outwearied, I wept,
O Etheline, ...

Read the full of Amongst The Roses

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.

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