by Robert Frost, 1922 Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods…
] by Robert W. Service, 1907 There are strange things done in the midnight sun ……….By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales ……….That would make your blood run cold; The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, ……….But the queerest they ever did see…
by J. Milton Hayes, 1911 There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There’s a little marble cross below the town; There’s a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down. He was known as “Mad Carew” by the subs at…
by Dorothea Mackellar, 1904 The love of field and coppice, Of green and shaded lanes. Of ordered woods and gardens Is running in your veins, Strong love of grey-blue distance Brown streams and soft dim skies I know but cannot share it, My love is otherwise. I love a sunburnt…
by A. B. ‘Banjo’ Paterson, 1890 There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around That the colt from old Regret had got away, And had joined the wild bush horses – he was worth a thousand pound, So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.…