BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



To Steer her. We suddenly struck the red 

 loam 

 Of the track near the troughs — then she 

 reeled on the rise — 

 From her crest to her croup covered over with 

 foam, 

 And blood-red her nostrils and bloodshot 

 her eyes, 

 A dip in the dell where the wattlefire bloomed — 

 A bend round a bank that had shut out the 

 view — 

 Large framed in the mild light the mountain 

 had loom'd, 

 With a tall, purple peak bursting out from 

 the blue. 



I pull'd her together, I press'd her, and she 

 Shot down the decline to the Company's 

 yard, 

 And on by the paddocks, yet under my knee 

 I could feel her heart thumping the saddle- 

 flaps hard. 

 Yet a mile and another, and now we were near 

 The goal, and the fields and the farms flitted 



past, 



192 



