Waiting.
166
And see a form 'mid the flowering furze
Willi blood-stained pink and shattered spurs,
And a young face turned to the cloudless skies,
Can it be thus that his master lies?
Eddy, his master, so young and
Whose mother, kissing him just that day.
And watching him mount at the big white gate,
Had said "Now, Eddy, you won't be late!"
All this he sees in a hazy way,
As he stands in the sunshine day by day.
And it sometimes Hashes across his brain
That Eddy will never come back again.
Yet he waits and waits by the paddock rail
With a patience that does not flag or fail,
For his heart is true, tho' his reason's dim,
And it's all rather misty and dark to him.
And the clover blossoms so faint and sweet,
May cluster softly about his feet,
But his eyes are fixed on the stable door,
And he waits for a step that will come no more.
Willi blood-stained pink and shattered spurs,
And a young face turned to the cloudless skies,
Can it be thus that his master lies?
Eddy, his master, so young and
Whose mother, kissing him just that day.
And watching him mount at the big white gate,
Had said "Now, Eddy, you won't be late!"
All this he sees in a hazy way,
As he stands in the sunshine day by day.
And it sometimes Hashes across his brain
That Eddy will never come back again.
Yet he waits and waits by the paddock rail
With a patience that does not flag or fail,
For his heart is true, tho' his reason's dim,
And it's all rather misty and dark to him.
And the clover blossoms so faint and sweet,
May cluster softly about his feet,
But his eyes are fixed on the stable door,
And he waits for a step that will come no more.
