From Poems (1913)

Poet and classicist Christopher Brennan spent much of his life drinking himself to death:

Under a sky of uncreated mud
or sunk beneath the accursed streets, my life
is added up of cupboard-musty weeks
and ring’d about with walls of ugliness:
some narrow world of ever-streaming air.

My days of azure have forgotten me.

Nought stirs, in garret-chambers of my brain,
except the squirming brood of miseries
older than memory, while, far out of sight
behind the dun blind of the rain, my dreams
of sun on leaves and waters drip thro’ years
nor stir the slumbers of some sullen well,
beneath whose corpse-fed weeds I too shall sink.

1895

Christopher Brennan, Australian, 1870-1932

Views taken during Cleansing Operations, Quarantine Area, Sydney, 1900, Vol. II / under the supervision of Mr George McCredie, F.I.A., N.S.W. : Back Yards, from 17 to 23 Exeter Place (State Library of NSW)

Views taken during Cleansing Operations, Quarantine Area, Sydney, 1900, Vol. II / under the supervision of Mr George McCredie, F.I.A., N.S.W. : Back Yards, from 17 to 23 Exeter Place (State Library of NSW)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s