Henry Lawson

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

Henry Lawson Poems

121. The Empty Glass 3/26/2010
122. The Ghost At The Second Bridge 3/26/2010
123. The Boss's Boots 3/26/2010
124. The Ballad Of The Rousabout 3/26/2010
125. The Drums Of Battersea 3/26/2010
126. The Men Who Come Behind 3/26/2010
127. The Separated Women 3/27/2010
128. The Tragedy 1/1/2004
129. The Cross-Roads 3/26/2010
130. The Man From Waterloo (With Kind Regards To Banjo) 3/26/2010
131. The Ballad Of Mabel Clare 3/26/2010
132. The Song Of Old Joe Swallow 12/31/2002
133. The Black Tracker (Or: Why He Lost The Track) 3/26/2010
134. The Western Stars 3/27/2010
135. The Outside Track 3/26/2010
136. The Drovers 3/26/2010
137. The Bush Fire 3/26/2010
138. The Old Stockman's Lament 3/26/2010
139. The Rush To London 3/27/2010
140. The World Is Full Of Kindness 3/27/2010
141. The Way I Treated Father [a Bush Song] 3/27/2010
142. The Way Of The World 3/27/2010
143. The Lily And The Bee 3/26/2010
144. They Can Only Drag You Down 3/27/2010
145. The Waving Of The Red 3/27/2010
146. The Water 3/29/2010
147. The Cockney Soul 1/1/2004
148. The Teams 12/31/2002
149. The Author's Farewell To The Bushmen 3/26/2010
150. Take It Fightin’ 3/26/2010
151. Tambaroora Jim 3/29/2010
152. The Wantaritencant 3/27/2010
153. Those Foreign Engineers 3/27/2010
154. The Pride That Comes After 3/27/2010
155. The Pink Carnation 3/27/2010
156. Sweethearts Wait On Every Shore 3/26/2010
157. The Army Of The Rear 3/26/2010
158. The Men Who Made Australia 3/26/2010
159. The Cambaroora Star 12/31/2002
160. The Vote Of Thanks Debate 3/27/2010
Best Poem of Henry Lawson

After All

The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town;
My spirit revives in the morning breeze,
though it died when the sun went down;
The river is high and the stream is strong,
and the grass is green and tall,
And I fain would think that this world of ours is a good world after all.

The light of passion in dreamy eyes, and a page of truth well read,
The glorious thrill in a heart grown cold of the spirit I thought was dead,
A song that goes to a comrade's heart, and a tear of pride let fall --
And my soul is strong! and the ...

Read the full of After All


It is stuffy in the steerage where the second-classers sleep,
For there's near a hundred for'ard, and they're stowed away like sheep, --
They are trav'lers for the most part in a straight 'n' honest path;
But their linen's rather scanty, an' there isn't any bath --
Stowed away like ewes and wethers that is shore 'n' marked 'n' draft.
But the shearers of the shearers always seem to travel aft;
In the cushioned cabins, aft,
With saloons 'n' smoke-rooms, aft --

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