While The Billy BoilsSearchYea, I have smiled as men may smile whose hearts within them die;Yea, I have heard the Voices call, and turned and said “Good-bye!”Good-bye, my love, good-bye!White powdered worlds wane dim above; the pregnant East grows gray —Tired, trembling hands upon the rein, tired eyes to see the day.
Last eve your twining arms still claimed and held my soul in fee.To-day the cruel miles spread far, so far ’tween thee and me;My love, my love, good-bye!Oh, we have lived our little hour — our little hour is dead;The skies that arch another day burn grandly overhead.
Now nor’ward, nor’ward winds the track — how heavy falls the goad!For I shall think and dream of thee along the lonely road —My love, dear love, good-bye!Yea, when our camp-fires red the night beyond the plain’s extreme,Then shall I read among the coals, and dream, and dream, and dream. . .
And ne’er above still sleeping trees shall climb a great white moon,And ne’er across the Bush shall fall soft shades of afternoon,And never through their mid-day haze the blue hills smiling be,But will their tender glories call my fancies back to thee.So NOT good-bye!
Nay, not good-bye! So short is Life, so fair is Love so dear;And theirs shall surely be the Earth who hope and nothing fear.No, not good-bye!For they must wait in ways obscure, who wait the Living Light;But they shall see the Sun uprise who watch through all the Night.