Henry Lawson

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

Henry Lawson Poems

241. Harry Stephens 3/26/2010
242. Outside 3/26/2010
243. Coomera 3/26/2010
244. The Loveable Characters 1/1/2004
245. The Professional Wanderer 1/1/2004
246. Since The Cities Are The Cities 3/26/2010
247. To Roumania 3/27/2010
248. Rejected 3/26/2010
249. Somewhere Up In Queensland 3/26/2010
250. Johnson, Alias Crow 3/26/2010
251. Give Yourself A Show: New Year's Eve 3/26/2010
252. Billy Of Queensland 3/29/2010
253. To-Morrow 3/27/2010
254. Young Kings And Old 3/27/2010
255. Write By Return 3/27/2010
256. Who’s Dot Pulleteen? 3/27/2010
257. The Water Lily 3/27/2010
258. Bound For The Lord-Knows-Where 3/29/2010
259. Outside 3/29/2010
260. Hawkers 3/26/2010
261. Mostly Slavonic 3/26/2010
262. Nineteen Nine 3/26/2010
263. Ruth 3/26/2010
264. Captain Von Esson Of The “sebastopol” 3/29/2010
265. To Tom Bracken 3/27/2010
266. Years After The War In Australia 3/27/2010
267. For All The Land To See: A Song Of The Tools 3/26/2010
268. Written Afterwards 3/27/2010
269. John Cornstalk 3/26/2010
270. Nemesis 3/26/2010
271. Our Mistress And Our Queen 3/29/2010
272. Written Out [1] 3/27/2010
273. The Ships That Won'T Go Down 1/1/2004
274. Grace Jennings Carmicheal 3/26/2010
275. The Shanty On The Rise 12/31/2002
276. Next Door 3/26/2010
277. Old Stone Chimney 3/26/2010
278. To Jim 3/27/2010
279. Down The River 3/26/2010
280. Jack Cornstalk 3/26/2010
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

`for'Ard'


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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