Reedy River

Ten miles down Reedy River     A pool of water lies,     And all the year it mirrors     The changes in the skies.     Within that pool's broad bosom     Is room for all the stars:     It's bed of sand has drifted     O'er countless rocky bars.     Around the lower edges     There waves a bed of reeds,     Where water-rats are hidden     And where the wild duck breeds;     And grassy slopes rise gently     To ridges long and low,     Where groves of wattle flourish     And native bluebells grow.     Beneath the granite ridges     The eye may just discern     Where Rocky Creek emerges     From deep green banks of fern;     And standing tall between them,     The drooping she-oaks cool     The hard blue tinted waters     Before they reach the pool.     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 the 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 ploughed the rich red loam;     And 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 builded     There are no traces now,     And many rains have levelled     The furrows of my plough     The glad bright days have vanished;     For sombre branches wave     Their wattle-blossom golden     Above my Mary's grave.