Dear Charley, I dreamt of a letter last night
With the postmark of W.A.,
And it’s wonderful, reely, how soon it came right,
And I ought to feel happy to-day—
For your letter came home from that far-away shore,
But no matter however I try,
The difference, somehow, it always seems more
And I cannot do nothing but cry.
They’re all gone to Hogan’s to see their noo plough,
But I’m stayin’ behind from the rest,
For there doesn’t seem anything happenin’ now
Like before you cleared out to the West.
The voice from the crick’s like a human in pain
And a sigh seems ter come from the trees,
And there’s somethin’ I don’t understand on the plain
With the grass wavin’ up to your knees.
You mind the moss rose that grew over our gate,
Our old gate where we whispered, “Good-bye”?
Oh, how often I go there and wonder if Fate
Has one blessing a girl’s wish could buy—
I am wearin’ a bunch in your favourite dress
With the flounces and streamers of blue,
And though pr’aps it is silly, I have to confess
I am wearin’ my heart out for you.
All the country around is as green as a leaf
And there’s never no fires or no drought,
And they say it’s old weatherwise Riley’s belief
That the seasons is goin’ to hang out;
And they say that young fellers is fools to go West
When there’s whips of good land on the run—
And the stick-at-home policy’s always the best
When the summin’-up comes to be done.
Oh, Charley! come back to your sweetheart again!
She’s as dull as a girl in a trance:
And she hasn’t been out for a flutter since then
And she don’t care a dump for a dance;
And she’s watchin’ for someone who kissed her, and cried
“But a few little months for to wait!
When the time’ll pass by, and I’ll stand by your side
Where the roses twine over the gate.”
[Illustration: Man with luggage and moneybag hastily leaving camp]