MOONRISE
The Barley creek was running high, the Narrows were abrim,
As low I crouched beside the ridge, and watched an hour for him.
And out against the round red moon that lipped each standing twig
How black the drooping gum-boughs seemed! The moon how bright and big!
As low I crouched beside the ridge, and watched an hour for him.
And out against the round red moon that lipped each standing twig
How black the drooping gum-boughs seemed! The moon how bright and big!
The troopers watched the hills, I knew. But I, more wise than they,
Guessed that the man they hunted down would ride a nearer way.
If rider passed along the ridge from where I watched the track,
He would stand out against the moon, a silhouette in black.
So hidden in the fern I lay, for he, I loved, had sworn
That he would come to where I hid, at moonrise or at morn.
And then above the sighing wind, the leaf talk in the trees,
I thought I heard a horse's bit a-jingle in the breeze,
And all the red came to my cheeks, the kisses to my mouth,
As though a crush of roses fed the wind along the South.
Guessed that the man they hunted down would ride a nearer way.
If rider passed along the ridge from where I watched the track,
He would stand out against the moon, a silhouette in black.
So hidden in the fern I lay, for he, I loved, had sworn
That he would come to where I hid, at moonrise or at morn.
And then above the sighing wind, the leaf talk in the trees,
I thought I heard a horse's bit a-jingle in the breeze,
And all the red came to my cheeks, the kisses to my mouth,
As though a crush of roses fed the wind along the South.
