Henry Lawson

(17 June 1867 – 2 September 1922 / Grenfell, New South Wales)

Henry Lawson Poems

81. Dan, The Wreck 12/31/2002
82. Dawgs Of War 3/26/2010
83. Divorced 3/26/2010
84. Do You Think That I Do Not Know? 3/26/2010
85. Down The River 3/26/2010
86. Eureka 1/1/2004
87. Eurunderee 12/31/2002
88. Every Man Should Have A Rifle 1/1/2004
89. Everyone's Friend 3/29/2010
90. Everyone's Friend 3/26/2010
91. Faces In The Street 12/31/2002
92. Fall In, My Men, Fall In 1/1/2004
93. Fall In, My Men, Fall In 3/29/2010
94. Fighting Hard 3/26/2010
95. For All The Land To See: A Song Of The Tools 3/26/2010
96. For Australia 1/1/2004
97. For He Was A Jolly Good Fellow 3/26/2010
98. For'Ard 1/1/2004
99. Foreign Lands 3/26/2010
100. Freedom On The Wallaby 1/1/2004
101. From The Bush 1/1/2004
102. Genoa 3/26/2010
103. Gettin Back 3/26/2010
104. Gipsy Too 3/26/2010
105. Give Yourself A Show: New Year's Eve 3/26/2010
106. Golden Gully 3/26/2010
107. Grace Jennings Carmicheal 3/26/2010
108. Grey Wolves Grey 3/26/2010
109. Gs [or The Fourth Cook] 3/26/2010
110. Hannah Thomburn 3/26/2010
111. Harry Stephens 3/26/2010
112. Hawkers 3/26/2010
113. He Had So Much Work To Do 3/26/2010
114. He Mourned His Master 3/26/2010
115. He’s Gone To England For A Wife 3/26/2010
116. Heed Not! 3/26/2010
117. Here Died 1/1/2004
118. Here's Luck 3/26/2010
119. His Brother’s Keeper 3/26/2010
120. How The Land Was Won 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Henry Lawson

Faces In The Street

They lie, the men who tell us in a loud decisive tone
That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown;
For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet
My window-sill is level with the faces in the street --
Drifting past, drifting past,
To the beat of weary feet --
While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street.

And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair,
To see upon those faces stamped the marks of Want and Care;
I look in vain for traces of the fresh and fair and sweet
In sallow, sunken faces that...

Read the full of Faces In The Street


Roll up, Eureka's heroes, on that grand Old Rush afar,
For Lalor's gone to join you in the big camp where you are;
Roll up and give him welcome such as only diggers can,
For well he battled for the rights of miner and of Man.
In that bright golden country that lies beyond our sight,
The record of his honest life shall be his Miner's Right;
But many a bearded mouth shall twitch, and many a tear be shed,
And many a grey old digger sigh to hear that Lalor's dead.
Yet wipe your eyes, old fos

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