Yorick

A golden largesse from a store untold
Announced the ruddy days imperial birth,
And woke a loyal world to jubilant mirth
And hopes that boasted, madly over-bold.
Shadow and thunder from a dull cloud rolled,
A shiver chilled the lately glittering firth,
As gloom set heavy hand upon the earth;
Yet look, on westward hills a gleam of gold.
You have laughed and bidden us laugh, O lord of jest;
You have wept and given us grief, O lonely friend;
And now we sit with silent lips and white,
And dream what craggy ways thou wanderest,
Not finding yet of hope or strife an end,
O soul set free from bondage of the night.

John Le Gay Brereton

John Le Gay Brereton was an Australian poet, critic, and professor of English who was born on September 2, 1871, and died on February 2, 1933. He is best known for his association with the Bulletin school of Australian poetry and for promoting Australian literature. Brereton's contributions to poetry and literary criticism made him a significant figure in early 20th-century Australian literature. His academic career also included a long tenure at the University of Sydney.

John Le Gay Brereton

Spring

John Le Gay Brereton, Simple Poetry

Trade

John Le Gay Brereton, Simple Poetry

An Epitaph

John Le Gay Brereton, Simple Poetry

The Dead

John Le Gay Brereton, Simple Poetry

English

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What of these tender feet
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Middle Harbour

Lonely wonder, delight past hoping!
Sky-line broken by stirring trees,
Grey rocks hither and shoreward sloping,
Silent bracken about my knees.

Dusky scrub where the sunlight splashes,
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Through the boughs that are still before me,
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May-Day With The Muses. - The Forester.

Born in a dark wood's lonely dell,
Where echoes roar'd, and tendrils curl'd
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Or station'd spreads the trembling wing.

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Lollingdon Downs VIII

The Kings go by with jewled crowns;
Their horses gleam, their banners shake, their spears are many.
The sack of many-peopled towns
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And, in the furrow that the plowmen make,
A stampless penny, a tale, a dream.

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The profits of their treasures sold
They tell and sum;
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Their servants, starved to half-alive,
Whose labors do but make the earth a hive
Of stinking stories; a tale, a dream.

The Priests are singing in their stalls,
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Epilogue For Mr. Lee Lewes

Hold! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonsense;
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience.
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Vixit

Nurse not your grief, nor make obsequious moan
When I have shed this flesh I love so well,
Nor slowly toll the dull heart-bruising knell,
Nor carve my name in customary stone;
But let the generous earth reclaim her own
And my usurious profit who can tell?
Dash tears aside, let joy resume her spell;
Stars glitter where the storm is overblown.
Because I have lived I would not have one say:
Here long ago a man of such a name
Was left to moulder in his pit of clay.
Let only love remember how I came
And built an earthen altar in my day
And lit thereon a comfortable flame.

John Le Gay Brereton