Explore "The Sliprails and the Spur" by Henry Lawson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The colours 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 home again, Whose heart has learnt to love and roam._