To his feathered mates he picked up quite a lot of golden ore—
Picked up nuggets large as brickbats, glorious lumps of golden ore,
Made a pile, and nothing more.
Newcastle Paper, April, 1880.
Quart Pot Creek.
(Australasian.)
On an evening ramble lately, as I wandered on sedately,
Linking curious fancies, modern, mediæval, and antique,—
Suddenly the sun descended, and a radiance ruby-splendid,
With the gleam of water blended, thrilled my sensitive physique,—