Читать книгу Home And Camp - William Dean - Страница 5

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Across the rise where the wattles grow,

I often ride when the sun is low,

Along the rack where the cattle camp,

To get my mail — or a postage stamp.

To stay and chat for awhile with Kate,

Beneath the stars at the garden gate,

To whisper love, and my hope renew

By saying “I’ve letters overdue!”

I take a paper, and every week

To Dingo Gully or Stoney Creek

I always write, for I never fail

To swell the bulk of the outward mail,

The mail is small, as you might suppose,

Some one must write or the post might close,

But still I get, do you understand,

No note addressed in a lady’s hand!

All iron will, and a strong right arm,

Will change my land to a fertile farm,

And this old life I will cast aside,

By making Kate at the post my bride.

And still some use of the post I’ll make,

To send away for the wedding cake,

And then not worry so much (would you?)

For letters or papers overdue!