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.