First see those ample melons-brindled o'er With mingled green and brown is all the rind; For they are ripe, and mealy at the core, And saturate with the nectar of their kind.…
Born in New South Wales in 1813, Australian poet and writer Charles Harpur was the son of freed convicts who greatly encouraged his education. His father had become a school teacher in the small town of Windsor and exposed his son to the likes of Shakespeare and Milton from an early age. Although not one of Australia’s major poets, Harpur produced a large body of work that was published throughout the country during his lifetime. Harpur spent a large part of his early life moving from job to job trying to earn enough money to survive on. When the great drought struck in the late 20s, he was forced to leave his hometown and seek work in Hunter Valley and then the big city of Sydney. It was while he was there that he began to write poems and send them to local newspapers and magazines. It was the start of a long if quite unstable career and he would spend the rest of his life contributing poems and working part time as a journalist. He returned to Hunter Valley in his late thirties and again had to work from job to job. During this time he began courting Mary Doyle and they were married in 1850. Harpur had initial plans after marriage of becoming a teacher but was given some land owned by his father in law where he started to work as a grazier. Harpur’s first poem, The Wreck, was published in 1833 when he was only twenty years old. He wrote about 700 works over the rest of his life, all of which were published in different magazines and newspapers across the country. He would collect each one and attempt to publish them in various collections though very few publishers at the time seemed interested. Indeed, it wasn’t until 1844 that his first book, Thoughts, A Series of Sonnets, was finally published. Harpur published one of his most well-known works in 1853. Bushrangers and Other Poems was printed across the country and was the first by an Australian born writer to be so. He achieved popularity by his readiness to deal with real life subjects and tragedies. He also wrote a good deal of satiric and comedic works that set him apart from lesser poets and writers of the time. In 1858, he had a lucky break and found himself with the job of gold commissioner in New South Wales, a position that provided him with a secure living and a good salary for the next few years. He bought a farm Eurobodalla but his job as a commissioner meant that he couldn’t devote enough time to working it and the project failed. With retrenchment running through Australia at the time, his job as gold commissioner suddenly came to an end and Harpur once again found himself out of work. A year later his son was killed in an accident and Harpur fell into ill health and depression, something from which he never recovered. He died himself in 1868 after contracting tuberculosis over the winter.
Charles Harpur şiirleri
NIGHTLY I watch the moon with silvery sheen Flaking the city house-tops, till I feel Thy memory, Rosa, like a presence, steal Down in her light: for ever in her mien…
High ’mid the shelves of a grey cliff, that yet Riseth in Babylonian mass above, In a benched cleft, as in the mouldered chair Of grey-beard Time himself, I sit alone,…
With a resplendent Eastern bride, Like a houri at my side, And music round us swelling, ’Mid odours of so rare a steam…
Far up the River-hark! 'tls the loud shock Deadened by distance, of some Fowler's gun: And as into the stillness of the scene It wastes now with a dull vibratory boom,…
DARK is her cheek, but her blood’s rich blush Comes through its dusk with a sunset flush, While joy, like a prairie-bee, slaketh its drouth At the red honey-cup of her smiling mout…
Flowers in their freshness are flushing the earth, And the voice-peopled forest is loud in its mirth, And streams in their fullness are laughing at dearth— Yet my bosom is aching.…
Night was new-throned in heaven, and we did rove Together in the cool and shadowless haze That thickened round, at the wild stars to gaze Ere yet the moon’s red rim had showed abov…
A MIDSUMMER NOON IN THE AUSTRALIAN FOREST Not a bird disturbs the air! There is quiet everywhere;…
[About the year 1842 a party of stockmen, several of whom were afterwards hanged for the crime, made a wholesale slaughter of a small tribe of defenceless blacks; one woman only, w…
SHALL we sing of Loyalty To the far South’s fiery youth? Yea—but let the pæan be Of loyalty to God and Truth:…
Spirit, that lookest from the starry fold Of truth’s white flock, next to thy Milton there Accept my reverence though but feebly told. And oh! My heart from thy example rare…
HERE in this lonely rill-engirdled spot, The world forgetting, by the world forgot, With one vowed to me with beloved lips How sweet to draw, as hiddenly from time,…
Long ere I knew thee—years of loveless days, A shape would gather from my dreams, and pour The soul-sweet influence of its gentle gaze Into my heart, to thrill it to the core:…
There's a regret that from my bosom aye Wrings forth a dirgy sweetness, like a rain Of deathward love; that ever in my brain Uttereth such tones as in some foregone way…
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