The Sliprails And The Spur

The colors of the setting sun
Withdrew across the Western land
He raised the sliprails, one by one
And shot them home with trembling hand

Her brown hands clung, her face grew pale
Ah, quivering chin and eyes that brim
One quick, fierce kiss across the rail
And, "Good-bye, Mary!" "Good-bye, Jim!"

Oh, he rides hard to race the pain
Who rides from love, who rides from home
But he rides slowly back again
Whose heart has learnt to lovе and roam

One hand on the horse’s manе
One foot in the stirrup set
And then stooping back to kiss again
With "Good-bye, Mary! don’t you fret!

When I return", He laughed for her
"We do not know how soon ’twill be
I’ll whistle as I round the spur
You let the sliprails down for me"

She gasped for sudden loss of hope
As, with a backward wave to her
He cantered down the grassy slope
And swiftly round the dark’ning spur

Oh, he rides hard to race the pain
Who rides from love, who rides from home
But he rides slowly back again
Whose heart has learnt to love and roam

And so often at the set of sun
In winter bleak or summer brown
She’d steal across the little run
And shyly let the sliprails down

And she'd listen there when darkness shut
The nearer spur in silence deep
And when they called her from the hut
Steal home and cry herself to sleep

Oh, he rides hard to race the pain
Who rides from love, who rides from home
But he rides slowly back again
Whose heart has learnt to love and roam

And he rides hard to dull the pain
Who rides from love, who loves him best
But he rides never back again
Whose restless heart must rove for rest