Victoria To James Moorhouse, {76}

Bishop of Melbourne, who left Melbourne for the Bishopric of Manchester, 10th March 1886.

He came, a stranger, and we gave him welcome
    More as loved friend than rumour's honoured guest.
He spoke! Were we, then, all so slack to listen?
    To hail him as our wisest, noblest, best?
            Why did he leave us?

He toiled! And we, we under such a leader,
    Forgot all other creeds, but that he taught,
And proud of our clear answer to his summons,
    Forgot all other fights but that he fought!
            Why did he leave us?

He wearied! 'Twas too great, he said, the burden.
    We saw it and we cried with anxious love;
"What does he (Let him back!) down in the battle?
    Is not the general's place at rest above?"
            Why did he leave us?

He left us for a "wider sphere of labour!"
    A tinsel seat within a House that shakes,
To herd with priests meal-mouthed, with lords and liars
    That still would bind a nation's chain that breaks!
            Why did he leave us?

Farewell, then! Are there any to reproach you
    In all this facile crowd that weeps and cheers?
Not one! But, ah you yet shall listen sadly
    To an echo falling faint through the dead years: -
            Why did he leave us?

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Francis William Lauderdale Adams (27 September 1862 – 4 September 1893) was an English writer, poet, dramatist, and social reformer. His literary work often reflected his radical socialist views. Adams lived a life marred by poverty and struggles with his health, eventually committing suicide at the age of 30. Despite his brief life, his contributions to literature and social thought remain significant.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

To Edith.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

A South-Sea Islander.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

Mount Rennie. (The Time-Spirit speaks.)

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

Evening Hymn In The Hovels.

Francis William Lauderdale Adams, Simple Poetry

English

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The New Locksley Hall. "Forty Years After."

Comrade, yet a little further I would go before the night
Closes round and chills in darkness all the glorious sunset light -
Yet a little, by the cliff there, till the stately home I see
Of the man who once was with us, comrade once with you and me!
Nay, but leave me, pass alone there; stay awhile and gaze again
On the various-jewelled waters and the dreamy southern main,
For the evening breeze is sighing in the quiet of the hills
Moving down in cliff and terrace to the singing sweet sea-rills,
While the river, silent-stealing, thro' the copse and thro' the lea
Winds her waveless way eternal to the welcome of the sea.
Yes, within that green-clad homestead, gardened grounds and velvet ease
Of a home where culture reigneth and the chambers whisper peace,
Is the man, the seer and s...

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To E. L. Zox. {89} (Melbourne.)

We thank you for a noble work well done.
There is a kindness - ('tis the truer one;
    The better part the simpler heart doth know),
The care to give the day a brighter sun

To these, the nameless crowd that drags on slow
The common toil, the common weary woe
    The world cares nought for. But your work secures
Thro' union strength and self-respect that grow.

There is a courage that unflawed endures
The sneer, the slander of earth's epicures.
    And here are grateful women's hearts to show
This kindness and this courage, both are yours!

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Henry George. (Melbourne.)

I came to buy a book. It was a shop
Down in a narrow quiet street, and here
They kept, I knew, these socialistic books.
I entered. All was bare, but clean and neat.
The shelves were ranged with unsold wares; the counter
Held a few sheets and papers. Here and there
Hung prints and calendars. I rapped, and straight
A young girl came out through the inner door.
She had a clear and simple face; I saw
She had no beauty, loveliness, nor charm,
But, as your eyes met those grey light-lit eyes
Like to a mountain spring so pure, you thought:
"He'd be a clever man who looked, and lied!"
I asked her for the book. . . . We spoke a little. . . .
Her words were as her face was, as her eyes.
Yes, she'd read many books like this of mine:
Also some poets, Shelley, Byron too,

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

To An Unionist.

"If you only knew
How gladly I've given it
All these years -
The light of mine eyes,
The heat of my lips,
Mine agonies,
My yearning tears,
My blood that drips,
My brain that sears:
If you only knew
How gladly I've given it
All these years -
My hope and my youth,
My manhood, my Art,
My passion, my truth,
My mind and my heart:

"O my brother, you would not say,
    What have you to do with me?
You would not, would not turn away
    Doubtingly and bitterly.

"If you only knew
How little I cared for
These other things -
The delicate speech,
The high demand
Of each from each,
The imaginings
Of Love's Holy Land:
If you only knew
How little I cared for
These other things -
The wide c...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Farewell To The Children.

In the early summer morning
    I stand and watch them come,
The children to the school-house;
    They chatter and laugh and hum.

The little boys with satchels
    Slung round them, and the girls
Each with hers swinging in her hand;
    I love their sunny curls.

I love to see them playing,
    Romping and shouting with glee,
The boys and girls together,
    Simple, fearless, free.

I love to see them marching
    In squads, in file, in line,
Advancing and retreating,
    Tramping, keeping time.

Sometimes a little lad
    With a bright brave face I'll see,
And a wistful yearning wonder
    Comes stealing over me.

For once I too had a darling;
    I dreamed what he should do,
And surely he'd have had, I...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams

Nationalism And M'Ilwraith! The Queensland Elections Cry, 1888.

Australia listened! Through the brawling game
    Of played-out rascals gambling for her gold,
    The rotten-hearted traitors who had sold
For flimsy English gauds her righteous fame -
Through the foul hubbub, it did seem, there came
    The still small voice of nobler things untold.
    But now, but now with wonder manifold
She hears a voice that calls her by her name!

Australia listens, as the mother wilt
    To hear her first-born cry. "Say, is it death,
Or life and all life's hope made audible
    That thrills my heart and gives my spirit faith?"
From out the gathering war-hosts leaps forth shrill
    The double cry, "Australia, M'Ilwraith!"

The dawn is breaking northward! Rise, O Sun,
    Australian Liberty, and give us light!
 ...

Francis William Lauderdale Adams