Faces In The Street

Faces In The Street

One of my favourite late 19th and early 20th century Australian poets is Henry Lawson. Here’s a taste of why. Faces In The Street by Henry Lawson They lie, the men who tell us, for reasons of their own, That want is here a stranger, and that misery’s unknown; For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet My window-sill is level with the faces in the street- Drifting past, drifting past, To the beat of weary feet- While I sorrow for the owners of those faces in the street. And cause I have to sorrow, in a land so young and fair, To see upon those faces stamped the

The Angel of the Storm

The Angel of the Storm

ANGEL OF THE STORM Rolling in like anger, Growling from the North, Seeking out to lash, At the innocence of earth. Charging in with power, Delivered by the Gods, Prepared to vent its wrath, On some poor forgotten sods. And to its wrath, she warns, “Come closer, come closer”, “To the Angel of the Storm”. “I open out my arms, To your fearsome groans, “I am the Angel of the Storm “. “Fill me with your power, Until you are forlorn, Yes, I will dance with you, I am the Angel of the Storm”. The skies clear slowly, Releasing sunshine warm, And back she goes to boredom, The Angel of