He has a big smile under his mustache. This is the real Henry. The much beloved poet.
Bertha Bredt married Henry and became his crutch. She loved him dearly.
But sadly Bertha became ill and was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Leaving Henry to care for two small children.
This poem The Separation is in my opinion Henrys finest poem
This is Henrys reflection of his weaknesses and a how things may have been.
He also acknowledges, and I agree, that under different circumstances, his marriage may have been a success.
So take your time and read the message.
Regards,
John
The Separation
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were good—
’Twas paltry things that wrecked our lives
As well I knew they would.
The people said our love was dead,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we loved each other less
We’d not have quarrelled so.
We knew too little of the world,
And you and I were kind,
We listened to what others said
And both of us were blind.
The people said ’twas selfishness,
But how were they to know?
Ah! had we both more selfish been
We’d not have parted so.
But still when all seems lost on earth
Then heaven sets a sign—
Kneel down beside your lonely bed,
And I will kneel by mine,
And let us pray for happy days—
Like those of long ago.
Ah! had we knelt together then
We’d not have parted so.
Good on ya Henry-- This is, and always will be, your finest poem.
John
comedy sketch? Bob, surf rod in hand - brilliant sun . . a long stretch of Queensland sand, the only sounds the circling gulls and Bobbo reciting 'a dog called sex'. 
