George Wyndham Ayliffe
George Wyndham Ayliffe
Original Poetry
Original Poetry
G. W. Ayliffe was a prolific poet, and dozens of his poems were published in various regional newspapers between 1908-1912. Here is but a small selection.
She hath written a letter!
And all the world's gone wrong.
Harsh seem the peals of the laughing-jack !
Harsh seems the magpie's song.
Bitter the breezes whisper ; pitifully sad the rain.
For She hath written a letter ; things can never be right again.
She hath written a letter ; a letter of weary pain,
Proving my dreams were only dreams ; my hopes were hopes in vain.
Gone is each ray of gladness : sorrow reigns everywhere,
And dark and dismal now the world that once was sweet and fair.
She hath written a letter ; and the moon hath hid from sight,
Pitying me in my sorrow, hiding her silver light,
And the stars have faded one by one, ashamed of their soft fair beams
That seemed to mock at my sorrow, scorning my broken dreams.
She hath written me a letter ! no longer there's good on Earth!
Sorrow has killed all joy ; tears have drowned all mirth.
She hath written a letter ; dreary is now my life—
Ah, Death, come follow quickly, for I'm tired of the lonely strife.
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Kingscote.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Thursday 16 April 1908, page 3Oh the saddle's on the chestnut, and the pack is on the grey,
So come, my merry comrade, and let us ride away,
Into the bush, the well-loved bush, the bush that's yours and mine
Where fond arms will be waiting, where tender eyes will shine.
When we come riding down the track that leads along the dell.
The old track, the rough track, the track we know so well !
Life is dreary in the city, we but loaf about and drink.
And soon we get a-weary, and ah then ! we start to think
About sweet-scented wattle trees with canopy of gold,
About the leaping camp-fires where the merry yarns are told
Of bonny gold-haired maidens, of maids with curls o' jet,
And we remember loved bush sounds—ah, how can we forget ?
Can't you hear the laughing jackass ? Can't you hear the magpies sing ?
Can't you hear the cow-bells tinkle ? Can't you hear the axes ring ?
Can't you hear the merry teamsters gaily singing some old song ?
Can't you see the dust-clouds rising, as the fat sheep crawl along.
Can't you hear the stockwhips cracking ? Can't you feel the reefing hordes ? Can't you hear the brooklets babbling as they ripple down their courses ?
Oh the saddle's on the chestnut, and the pack is on the grey,
We are tired of the city, and 'tis time we got away ;
For we hear the stockwhips cracking, see the golden wattle tree,
And we know fond arms are waiting in the bush for you and me ;
So come, my merry comrade, to the city say "good-day"—
For the saddle's on the chestnut, and the pack is on the grey !
—G. G. Ayliffe, Kingscote.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 30 November 1907, page 3They met at the rustic creek one day,
When the sun was bright, and the birds were gay,
And they loitered there by the quiet stream
And life was a wondrous golden dream
And love crept in to the maiden's heart —
But Fate is cruel, and paths must part!
He rode away in the morning light,
And she watched till he faded from out of sight;
And he turned and waved as he left the track,
And the maiden waved her kerchief back,
Then turned to the house with a weary sigh,
Ah, life is bitter, when love must die!
He rode away to a distant land,
And sought and won another's hand,
For he was false and forgot in a week
The maiden he met by the rustic creek—
But she was true and for him did wait,
Wistfully watching beside the gate.
The years have fled, and her hair is grey,
Yet down at the gate the waits to-day,
And he, he forgot, as men will do,
Though maids are loving, and ah, too true !
For with men love lasts a day, they say,
Whilst with maidens it lasts forever and aye !
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Kingscote.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 25 January 1908, page 3Oh ! it was down at Kingscote,
To spend a holiday,
There came a little maiden,
Blue-eyed, light-hearted, gay !
Oh ! it was down at Kingscote,
I fell beneath Love's sway.
Oh ! out of bonny Kingscote,
So many moons ago,
There sailed a little maiden
To where the north winds blow,
And by my side in Kingscote,
There stalked the phantom, Woe.
Oh ! it is far from Kingscote.
My restless feet have strayed —
Dead the heart within me where
No more Love's tunes are played
Ah ! me, for bonny Kingscote,
And a laughing, blue-eyed maid.
Geo. W. Ayliffe.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 5 February 1910, page 2Steady, my beauty, steady! No need for speed to-night,
No brave, blue eyes will brighten when we ride into sight.
Steady, my beauty, steady ! No gallop across the lea —
For no one waits at the gateway to-night to welcome me.
We have travelled the road so often, and ever we travelled fast
With thoughts of her at the gateway — Ah ! dreams that would not last !
And now we travel so slowly for gone is the winsome face —
In the crowded hall with the dancers I'll be strangely out of place.
Shall I waltz with some other maiden? My feet will drag heavy as lead,
She will vote me a tiring partner, as quiet almost as the dead.
Ah ! how could I waltz whilst ever her face shone out of a mist,
And I dreamed of a shadowed gateway, where so oft her lips I kissed ?
Steady, my beauty, steady ! The nights of love are flown.
We won't be missed, and I reckon, we're better by far alone.
Let me dream her lips I'm kissing while her white arms cling so fast.
God ! to live once more, one hour, of the golden past !
Turn homeward, old horse ; I'm weary, I'll face no ball to-night.
The game of life is dreary, and the world is far from right.
And I could not ride through the gateway where so oft we met, we two ;
Now the light has flown for ever from her bonny, brave eyes of blue.
Geo. W. Ayliffe, 'Tringadee.'
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 19 November 1910, page 3Roses ruddy and roses white
Bordered the road where we walked last night.
I took your hand and I said : " Dear heart,
Can we smile to-night though to-morrow we part."
And you answered bravely, your eyes on mine :
" Clouds soon give way to the glad sunshine."
There is no rose but has its thorn ;
And with every joy is a sorrow born.
Shall we leave the rose for a meaner toy ?
Do we flee the sorrow we lose the joy.
Last night the world was wondrous fair —
To-day 'tis filled with a blank despair.
But I'd sooner go through the deepest hell
Than have missed last night with its wonder spell.
Geo. W. Ayliffe, 'Tringadee.'
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 10 December 1910, page 3Oh! a wonderful land is Fairyland
As none of the grown-ups know ;
For no grown-up could understand
The wonderful doings of Fairyland,
Where all good babies go.
There are ugly dragons and giants there ;
And knights who are gallant and bold,
Who rescue princesses wondrous fair,
With big blue eyes and silken hair —
The color of sunset gold.
All good little girls and good little boys
Their way to Fairyland take :
And there they find most wonderful toys,
That fill the heart with the wildest joys,
And never are known to break.
I could tell you tales of Fairyland—
Tales that know not sorrow or pain,
But ah ! you never could understand,
For Fairyland is the long lost land
Where we never shall walk again.
G. W. AYLIFFE, ' Arranmore.'
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 13 February 1909, page 6I've got to give up smoking
The doctor says, and so
There is no doubt about it,
My pipes will have to go
To the four winds of the heavens
Every pipe I soon will scatter !
Well, I never cared for smoking
So it really doesn't matter.
No, I never cared for smoking,
Never really liked it much,
I only did it just to keep
With my good old pals in touch,
But of course its always bitter
When an idol old we shatter.
But I never cared for smoking
So it really doesn't matter.
Hand me down the dainty pipe-rack,
With the pipes all in a row.
Lord they look so sweet and ' comfy.'
Seems a pity they must go ;
Though I never cared for smoking,
Still on many a wintry night.
They've been sort of soothing comp'ny, .. .
Damn the doctor ! Where's a light ?
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Cygnet River.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 4 July 1908, page 3Is there a gathering at Hilton's? Is there merry laughter there ?
Are the men as gay and youthful, and the girls as sweet and fair,
As in the days of long ago — the days beyond compare ?
Is Edna just as pretty? Is Mary just as sweet ?
Is merry, laughing Maggie there? And win some Jean petite?
Does Jim still swallow ice-cold beers, with curses on the heat !
In the creeper-grown verandah will be whispering sweet to hear.
And amongst the scented roses many a man will breathe, I fear,
The vows that soon are broken, into many a small, pink ear !
They will drink to ' Wives and Sweethearts,' and the hope they'll never meet ; They'll toast — ah ! ' all so silently — the friends they'll no more greet —
The gay light-hearted rovers with the ever restless feet !
The gay light-hearted rovers : Ah ! I am of their band !
And 'neath creeper-grown verandahs I no longer stand
And woo fair girls with every art that lovers understand.
Good luck ! good luck ! Oh, bonny girls I've always thought divine.
Good luck ! good luck a thousand times ! to you, old pals o' mine !
(What's this I feel upon my cheek ? . . . I must have splashed my wine !)
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Cygnet River.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Friday 24 December 1909, page 2May flowers by the wayside grow for you,
To rob a smile from your eyes of blue.
May your way be lit by the brightest star.
When the night is long and the journey far,
May a great love, loyal and true,
Lighten the labours of life for you.
May never your fairest dreams depart
To leave a blank in your honest heart.
Such are the wishes I hold for you,
And I pray, Dear Heart, they may all come true.
Geo. W. Ayliffe.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 12 February 1910, page 3'Tis well to be a lover when eyes are fond and bright,
When softly breezes whisper sweet secrets to the night,
While white arms cling so tightly, and fondly two hearts beat.
'Tis well to be a lover when every hour is sweet!
'Tis well to be a roamer when scented breezes blow
Across the wide, blue oceans all heedlessly to go ;
Ere yet the heart is heavy beneath a load of care '
Tis well to be a roamer when every path is fair !
'Tis well to be a stay-at-home when winter winds are bleak,
When each black hair is changed to grey and sunken is each cheek,
When there is naught to hope for and gone is each desire,
'Tis well to be a stay-at-home and doze before the fire.
Geo. W. Ayliffe, Mundalla.
Border Chronicle (Bordertown, SA : 1908 - 1950), Friday 11 October 1912, page 1He came riding in one evening as I sat before my door,
A bushman from the " out beyond" six feet tall or more,
And he handed me a letter; said he " I'd take it kind indeed,
If you'd read me this here letter for I never learnt to read.
And I know its from my sweetheart, a girl named Susie Green,
A regular little fairy. Sure the sweetest ever seen."
So I took the letter from him and I opened it with care,
'Twas badly written, badly spelt, with smudges here and there,
It started off " My darling Bill" and for a time or two
Ran on about the pigs and cows and what " Dad" meant to do,
The harvest was a good one and then broke off to say
How much she loved her dear old Bill who was so far away.
'Twas a badly written letter and a badly spelt one too,
But a woman's love ran through it in the way it ought to do.
And though the lady's grammar was not all it might have been,
The letter ended up " True love — your loving Susie Green."
And I reckon that the grammar did not count as much to Bill,
'Twas the true love counted most of all — as true love sometimes will.
He put the letter in his coat and turned and walked away
As happy as an emperor, and whistling blithe and gay.
But the letter that had made the honest stockman feel so glad
Came back to me in fancy and it made me feel ah ! sad,
For it sent my thoughts a-flitting over long and lonely years
Of heartache and of sorrow; of bitterness and tears.
Ah, Love ! You were so dainty! Your tender eyes so blue,
And I was " Bill" in those days and you, dear heart, were " Sue."
But a slight misunderstanding and no more "Sue and Bill,"
And true love crossed the borders as true love sometimes will.
And sorrow stayed, and heartache, and tears that fell like rain,
Ah ! those " slight misunderstandings" that cause such weary pain.
Dame Fortune has been kind to me ; I want for naught folks 'say,
And to the world I'm happy, light-hearted,
But all my riches I would give, and gladly give them too
To go back to those dear old days — the days Of " Bill and Sue."
And I wouldn't mind the grammar if a letter I could get,
Penned by my blue-eyed love of old — the woman I love yet.
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Cygnet River.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 20 June 1908, page 2I would sing you a song of gladness
With laughter in every line,
A song of the waving grasses
Tinged with the bright sunshine.
A song of the rippling wavelets,
A song of the babbling streams,
A song of days of gladness,
And nights of happy dreams.
But my pen writes only of sadness—
'Tis all my heart will dictate.
For what can we know of gladness,
Who are cursed by a bitter fate.
Girl ! for others the laughter ;
For you and for me the tears,
For our love dream proved a shadow,
There's no hope in the long, lone years.
Geo. W. Ayliffe.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 30 July 1910, page 3My tools lie scattered about the floor,
And he broke my watch to-day,
He has scratched the paint from every door
To wile dull time away
There's a dismal wail
From the cat, her tail
He's pulling— and calls it play ?
There's a watchful look in the brown dog's eye
(He 'branded' that dog this morning!)
The cat nowadays has grown quite spry
No hint of danger scorning,
To the roof she flies
Where safety lies,
At the slightest sound of warning.
He's driving his uncle balmy quite —
A silly old bachelor chap,
Who vows that his hair is turning white
Because of our wee madcap.
And the darned old fool
Has made it a rule
To be ever suggesting 'a nap.'
I never can find a pen of mine,
And my ink-pot has lost its lid ;
He has spilt a decanter of favorite wine
Lord knows where my slippers are hid ?
But no one can deny,
Say his Mother and I,
He's the best in the world— OUR KID!
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, 'Tringadee.'
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 24 December 1910, page 6Oh, the girls I've kissed I'll never forget,
And the memory makes me glad;
The only kisses that I regret,
Are the kisses I might have had.
Tis the thought of the girls that I might have kissed
And didn't that makes me sad ;
The golden chances that I have missed,
The kisses I might have had.
Oh, passionate lips so near, so near,
When Love for a while held sway !
Oh, chances lost through a foolish fear—
Let slip for ever and aye !
Oh, Brown Eyes, Grey Eyes, and Eyes of Blue.
Forgive this poor, shy lad!
(Oh, the wild regrets when I think of you,
And the kisses I might have had !)
Geo. W. Ayliffe, Mundalla.
Border Chronicle (Bordertown, SA : 1908 - 1950), Friday 19 July 1912, page 3Merriment reigns in your big blue eyes
As you bravely try to stand
On your dear little tottering dimpled feet,
And I steady you with one hand.
With rippling laughter gay and light,
Your eyes are all a-glow,
And there is no pain in the world to-night, There is no sorrow or woe.
Oh, Baby mine! So soft and sweet !
In the world there's a road to tread,
Will the path prove rough to your dainty feet ?
Will the cares cause an aching head?
Will the sun for you be always bright ?
Or cruel Fate claim her own ?
Oh, I tremble with fear as I think to-night
On the fight you must fight alone.
The world is all before you now,
Wherein you must play your part.
May no weary cares e'er line your brow,
No false love break your heart.
May your path be ever decked with flowers,
May your sun be always bright.
May all your hours be happy hours,
Are the prayers I breathe to-night.
GEO. W. AYLIFFE, Cygnet River.
Kangaroo Island Courier (Kingscote, SA : 1907 - 1951), Saturday 11 July 1908, page 3This poem may possibly be about his nephew, George Hamilton Ayliffe, b. 12 Nov 1907, the son of his brother Gerald Gleeson Ayliffe and his wife Agnes Marion (nee Johns). If so, the baby would have been aged eight months at the date of publication (July 1908).
Eight years later in 1916, G. W. Ayliffe married Evelyn Stanbury Kelly, and had three children between 1917 and 1921 - the youngest dying within 24 hours of birth. G.W.A. died the next year 01 Aug 1922 (aged 38) in Maitland, SA. "Some months ago severe influenza weakened him, and apparently the illness allied itself with the undermining effects of the heavy strain imposed upon his constitution by the war."