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THE SETTLER
A stranger? Yes, I’m strange,
And little did I know,
Who to seek, or where to change,
Or even where to go.
We haven’t been here vary long,
My nian—he’s out all day,
And while he’s gone, my heart yearns
strong
'"For home so far away.
I think of all those friends so dear,
And all the country side.
Where I grew up—then left them all
To come out here a bride.
My mother in our cottage sweet.
Just down the } shady lane,
Wild flowers growing at our feet,
I ne’er may see again!
Wallflowers, lilies, pansies, too
That bordered up the path;
The blackbird, thrush and spring
cuckoo,
And the cricket on the hearth.
The buzzing.bees on the apple trees,
That grow inside the gate;
We’ve left them all for good, you see,
And sorrow conies too late!
More money! do you say we get,
. More money! Yes! I find.
But that don’t really comfort us
For all we left behind.
The call of a voice, as one passed the
gate,
Would make me less forlorn! —
“Good morning, Mrs. Parsons,
And how are ye this morn?”
“Indeed I am well! —for that is the
sound
I have waited for —days on end.
My sorrows are worn —my ghosts are
gone
At last! —at the voice of a friend.”
—'Rose Sheppard.
Dandenong.
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