The text of this poem could not be published because of Copyright laws.
Born in 1878 in New South Wales, John O’Brien was the pen name for writer and poet Patrick Joseph Hartigan who spent most of his life working for the Catholic faith both as a priest and a school inspector. His father was a merchant and both his parents came originally from Irish stock and for the large part of his youth O’Brien attended the convent school in his hometown of Yass. Initially O’Brien was uncertain if he wanted to go into the priesthood so decided to spend some time studying at St Patrick’s College under the well-known academic John Gallagher who proved to a great influence on his career. When he had graduated from there, at the age of about 25, he was finally ordained and started work as a curate in Albury. With a keen interest in teaching, his career led him naturally into education and it wasn’t long before he found a post working as an inspector for the Catholic schools, noted in the area for the fact that he was one of the only priests who owned and drove a car. O’Brien was an enthusiast of literature, particularly the works that had been produced by Australian authors, and he began writing poetry about the same time that he was ordained. Although he managed to get several poems published in local newspapers, his first collection Around the Boree Log and Other Verses didn’t appear until 1921 when he was in his forties. O’Brien combined the earthy humor of the Australian Bush with the piety of his ordained faith, something that helped to grow his popularity amongst the local population in New South Wales. He was known to be a friendly and a largely popular priest, especially when he moved to the area of Narrandera where life was often hard. O’Brien would publish many of his new poems in the journal Manly and continued to do so for most of his later life. With age getting the better of him in 1944, O’Brien was forced to take retirement and moved to the more congenial surroundings of Sydney where he wrote a number of articles about the role of the Catholic clergy in outback Australia. One of his most memorable poems is Said Hanrahan which was initially published in 1921 but became a popular with the Australian public for many years afterwards. It follows the trials and tribulations of a Bushman from Irish stock who has to work through drought and flooding and the occasional bush fire to survive. In later life, O’Brien suffered from cancer but managed to finish his work On Darlinghurst Hill in 1951. A year later, the disease claimed his life at the age of 74 and he was buried alongside his parents at North Rocks Cemetery.
John O’Brien şiirleri
Oh, stick me in the old caboose this night of wind and rain, And let the doves of fancy loose to bill and coo again. I want to feel the pulse of love that warmed the blood like win…
'Twas Callagan who jerked the thumb- A mute, interrogating thumb- That set the people staring At Casey's lot arriving late.…
There's a weather-beaten sign-post where the track turns towards the west, Through the tall, white, slender timber, in the land i love the best. Short its message is -"To Casey's"…
Through the hush of my heart in the spell of its dreaming Comes the song of a bush boy glad-hearted and free; Oh, the gullies are green where the sunlight is streaming, And the voi…
Come, Little One, and sing to me A song our big wide land to bless, Around whose gentle parent-knee We've twined the flowers of kindliness.…
The text of this poem could not be published because of Copyright laws.
May a fading fancy hover round a gladness that is over? May a dreamer in the silence rake the ashes of the past? So a spirit might awaken in the best the years have taken, And the…
Old Father Pat! They'll tell you still with mingled love and pride Of stirring deeds that live and thrill the quiet country-side; And when they praise his tours-de-force, be sure i…
We meet him first in frills immersed, By everyone caressed and nursed, A bonny baby-rather! But, though they please his every whim,…
To the rooms where I am dining in the glaring city's day Come the happy honeymooners from the country far away, Two days old, and very awkward as they wander straight ahead, Much t…
The presbytery has gone to pot since this house-keeper came; She's up-to-date and stylish; but the place is not the same Since Death's hard summons robbed me of the sterling old ma…
With cheeks that paled the rosy morn She bounded o'er the heather, And romped with us among the corn When we were kids together.…
No, you don't quite get the meaning when the fun is at its height With the neighbours at the breakfast, and the world is warm and bright; And it doesn't come upon you when you're d…
“Wisha, where is he goin' to now With the hat on the back of the poll. And the hair of him curled on the brow, Like a millionaire out for a stroll?”…
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