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THE OLD WHIM HORSE By Edward Dyson (1865-1931) He's an old grey horse, with his head bowed
sadly,
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In that whim he worked when the night winds
bellowed
But the whim stands still, and wheeling swallow
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All the hands have gone, for the rich reef paid
out,
The floods rush high in the gully under,
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But there comes a night when he sees lights
glowing
See the old horse take, like a creature dreaming, |
While the old drum creaks, and the shadows shiver
He hears in the sluices the water rushing |
In a gully green, where a dam lies gleaming,
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Copyright : Gordon Freegard 2008 - 2020
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