HIS HORSE.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XX, Issue 1415, 24 December 1887, Page 2 (Supplement)

HIS HORSE.

Oh I beautiful one, oh 1 faithful one, Bound thy glossy neck I cling, I mingle my hair with the mane

Of the horse of my love, my King. The tears stream down on thy silken coat From these sorrowful eyes of mine, For my prince, my pearl, my lost, lost, love, My lord, as he was thine. Dost thou remember the day in November

We first rode out together, Alone by the murmuring Wandong creek, In the beautiful bright spring weather When the grass was green, and the balmy air Was heavy with rich perfume From the pungent shoots of the peppermint scrub, And from the delicate wattle bloom, When beneath the shade of the giant gums That swung their limbs above, He whispered in accents soft in my ear His tender tale of love ? Canst thou remember, can I forget, Each moment of that sweet lime, The rhythmical beat on the turf of your feet, And the jingling musical chime Of bridle and curb as thou playfully bit

At my palfrey's streaming mane : And we rode through the grand old bush unheeding, Onward, with loosen'd rein, How he lovingly stole round my waist his

arm, How he then, oh! ecstatic bliss, On my lips emplanted that sacred thing — A lover's first tender kiss ? Ah me ! those rapturous golden days

Of sunshine, and hope, and youth, When the world seem'd like a 'fairy palace Of perfect trust and truth. Ah me 1 that summer so soon to fade,

Tbat sunshine so soon to gloom, That flower of time to blossom and wither While yet in its early bloom ! Ah me ! for my Eden, my Paradise, So soon to be set aside, Since, a year ago, in his manhood' 3 prime — In the pride of his youth — he died. In the pride of his youth he died, and, for me,

The light went out of my life, My idol was shatter'd, my hopes were

widow'd, Before I became a wife. How came it about? The Waudong Creek Was running a banker high, When he suddenly heard near the torrent

deep, A wild and bitter cry. A child had fall'n in, where the swirling

stream Most fiercely raged and raved, And without an instant's pause he followed,

And the infant's life he saved; But the treacherous bank gave way with him Ere he reached the solid ground, And, in falling back, he struck a snag, And the lord of my heart was drowned, Whether I slept I know not now,My brain was benumb'd and dazed And I turned my face to the wall to die, For I was next nigh to crazed. They said he had met with a hero's death, It was sinful to repine : I know, I know. If it sinful be, Why then, must the sin be mine. He was my own and only love, My treasure, my hero true, Ah me! ahmel he died, and my heart, That had gone out to his, died too : And it lies where the summer winds whisper, And the winter tempests rave With him, where the white fence gleams in the bush Bound a bushman's lonely grave. His horse, his horse, and my voice will choke, And my eyes grow strangely dim, 'Tis folly 1 know, but thou wert his horse Aud seemed almost part of him. Some senseless trinkets I have, a ring, And a brooch, that he gave to me, I treasure them up 'tis true, but his horse, — There is nought that I love like thee. Thy master he was, and thou wert his— And ne'er a more willing slave : He, like to thee, thou like to him, Handsome, generous, faithful, brave. The eye of a hawk he had, the hand

Of steel in a velvet glove, Tender and true of heart, oh, my pearl, My love, my lost, lost love. E. P. Whitworth.