Page:Life of John Boyle O'Reilly.djvu/696

 650 As he was, in idleness, it was strange

How he cleared that sandal-wood off his range.

From the morning light till the light expired

He was always working, he never tired;

Till at length I began to think his will

Was too much settled on wealth, and still

When I looked at the lad's brown face, and eye

Clear open, my heart gave such thought the lie.

But one day—for he read my mind—he laid

His hand on my shoulder: "Don't be afraid,"

Said he, "that I'm seeking alone for pelf.

I work hard, friend; but 'tis not for myself."

And he told me then, in his quiet tone,

Of a girl in Scotland, who was his own,—

His wife,—'twas for her: 'twas all he could say.

And his clear eye brimmed as he turned away.

After that he told me the simple tale:

They had married for love, and she was to sail

For Australia when he wrote home and told

The oft-watched-for story of finding gold.

In a year he wrote, and his news was good:

He had bought some cattle and sold his wood.

He said, "Darling, I've only a hut,—but come."

Friend, a husband's heart is a true wife's home;

And he knew she'd come. Then he turned his hand

To make neat the house, and prepare the land

For his crops and vines; and he made that place

Put on such a smiling and homelike face,

That when she came, and he showed her round

His sandal-wood and his crops in the ground,

And spoke of the future, they cried for joy,

The husband's arm clasping his wife and boy.

Well, friend, if a little of heaven's best bliss

Ever comes from the upper world to this,