Adam Lindsay Gordon

Calm and clear! the bright day is declining, / The crystal expanse of the bay, / Like a shield of pure metal, lies shining

Where the grave-deeps rot, where the grave-dews rust, / They dug, crying, “Earth to earth”, / Crying, “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust”,

To fetch clear water out of the spring / The little maid Margaret ran; / From the stream to the castle’s western wing

Boot and saddle, see, the slanting / Rays begin to fall, / Flinging lights and colours flaunting

The spring-wind pass’d through the forest, and whispered low in the leaves, / And the cedar toss’d her head, and the oak stood firm in his pride; / The spring-wind pass’d through the town, through the housetops, casements, and eaves,

“Turn out, boys!”, “What’s up with our super to-night? / The man’s mad, Two hours to daybreak I’d swear, / Stark mad, why, there isn’t a glimmer of light.”

In Collins-street standeth a statue tall,* / A statue tall on a pillar of stone, / Telling its story, to great and small,

Rest, and be thankful! On the verge / Of the tall cliff rugged and grey, / But whose granite base the breakers surge,

“Aye, squire,” said Stevens, “they back him at evens; / The race is all over, bar shouting, they say; / The Clown ought to beat her; Dick Neville is sweeter

Aylmer’s Garden, near the Lake. LAURENCE RABY and ESTELLE. / He: / Come to the bank where the boat is moor’d to the willow-tree low;