Explore "The Drover's Sweetheart" by Henry Lawson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
An hour before the sun goes down Behind the ragged boughs, I go across the little run And bring the dusty cows; And once I used to sit and rest Beneath the fading dome, For there was one that I loved best Who'd bring the cattle home.
Our yard is fixed with double bails, Round one the grass is green, The bush is growing through the rails, The spike is rusted in; And 'twas from there his freckled face Would turn and smile at me -- He'd milk a dozen in the race While I was milking three.