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Reedy River

Ten miles down Reedy River one Sunday afternoon, I rode with Mary Campbell to that broad, bright lagoon; We left our horses grazing till shadows climbed the peak, And strolled beneath the she-oaks on the banks of Rocky Creek. Then home along the river that night we rode a race, And the moonlight lent a glory to Mary Campbell's face; I pleaded for my future all through that moonlight ride, Until our weary horses drew closer side by side. Ten miles from Ryan's Crossing and five below the peak, I built a little homestead on the banks of Rocky Creek; I cleared the land and fenced it and plowed the rich red loam; My first crop was golden when I brought Mary home. Now still down Reedy River the grassy she-oaks sigh, The water holes still mirror the pictures in the sky The golden sand is drifting across the rocky bars, And over all for ever go sun and moon and stars. But of the hut I built there are no traces now, And many rains have leveled the furrows of my plow. The glad bright days have vanished, for sombre branches wave Their wattle-blossom golden above my Mary's grave.