William Henry Ogilvie

(21 August 1869 – 30 January 1963 / Kelso, Scotland)

William Henry Ogilvie Poems

41. The Pearl Of Them All 4/7/2010
42. Running On! 4/7/2010
43. The First Flight 4/7/2010
44. Our Pilots 4/7/2010
45. Hands! 4/7/2010
46. His Epitaph 4/7/2010
47. Our Heritage 4/7/2010
48. Harry Morant 4/7/2010
49. If I Were Old 4/7/2010
50. The True Sportsman 4/7/2010
51. Gone Away 4/7/2010
52. As I Wandered Home 4/7/2010
53. The Men Of The Open Spaces 4/7/2010
54. The Last Muster 1/1/2004
55. The Filling Of The Swamps 1/1/2004
56. The Riding Of The Rebel 4/7/2010
57. The Horse Of Your Heart 4/7/2010
58. The Australian 1/1/2004
59. His Gippsland Girl 1/1/2004
60. From The Gulf 1/1/2004
61. Foxhound Puppies 4/7/2010
62. The Death Of Ben Hall 4/7/2010
63. The Bush, My Lover 1/1/2004
64. Drought 1/1/2004
65. My Hat! 1/1/2004

Comments about William Henry Ogilvie

  • Bootlace Phil (9/13/2018 9:49:00 PM)

    Ogilvie what a Wonderful Poet, One of the Finest! can you Imagine He and Harry Morant Together? One wonders, Did they collaborate together When Versing? There is a Similarity Esp with Morants verse? ?

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Best Poem of William Henry Ogilvie

My Hat!

The hats of a man may be many

In the course of a varied career,

And some have been worth not a penny

And some have been devilish dear;

But there's one hat I always remember
When sitting alone by the fire.

In the depth of a Northern November,

Because it fulfilled my desire.

It was old, it was ragged and rotten

And many years out of mode,

Like a thing that a tramp had forgotten

And left at the side of a road.

The boughs of the mulga had torn it,

It's ribbon was naught but lace,

And old swaggie ...

Read the full of My Hat!

From The Gulf

Store cattle from Nelanjie! The mob goes feeding past,
With half-a-mile of sandhill 'twixt the leaders and the last;
The nags that move behind them are the good old Queensland stamp-
Short backs and perfect shoulders that are priceless on a camp;
And these are men that ride them, broad-cheated, tanned, and tall,
The bravest hearts amongst us and the lightest hands of all:
Oh, let them wade in Wonga grass and taste the Wonga dew,
And let them spread, those thousand head-for we've be

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