So you rode from the range where your brothers “select,” <br /> <br />Through the ghostly grey bush in the dawn--- <br /> <br />You rode slowly at first, lest her heart should suspect <br /> <br />That you were glad to be gone; <br /> <br />You had scarcely the courage to glance back at her <br /> <br />By the homestead receding from view, <br /> <br />And you breathed with relief as you rounded the spur, <br /> <br />For the world was a wide world to you. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Grey eyes that grow sadder than sunset or rain, <br /> <br />Fond heart that is ever more true <br /> <br />Firm faith that grows firmer for watching in vain--- <br /> <br />She’ll wait by the sliprails for you. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Ah! The world is a new and a wide one to you, <br /> <br />But the world to your sweetheart is shut, <br /> <br />For a change never comes to the lonely Bush girl <br /> <br />From the stockyard, the bush, and the hut; <br /> <br />And the only relief from the dullness she feels <br /> <br />Is when ridges grow softened and dim, <br /> <br />And away in the dusk to the sliprails she steals <br /> <br />To dream of past meetings “with him.” <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Do you think, where, in place of bare fences, dry creeks, <br /> <br />Clear streams and green hedges are seen--- <br /> <br />Where the girls have the lily and rose in their cheeks, <br /> <br />And the grass in midsummer is green--- <br /> <br />Do you think now and then, now or then, in the whirl <br /> <br />Of the city, while London is new, <br /> <br />Of the hut in the Bush, and the freckled-faced girl <br /> <br />Who is eating her heart out for you? <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Grey eyes that are sadder than sunset or rain, <br /> <br />Bruised heart that is ever more true, <br /> <br />Fond faith that is firmer for trusting in vain--- <br /> <br />She waits by the sliprails for you<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bush-girl/
