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 My going alone; for I’m nearly done, And from here to the point is a stiffish run.’ Then one stepped forward and took an oar, And the boat shot out for the other shore. To and fro where the gums hang low And bar their passage, the comrades row; Hard up stream where the waters race; Steady, where floating branches lace; Through many a danger and sharp escape And catch of breath, as the timbers scrape And thrill to the touch of some river shape; Till at last the huts on the point draw near, And over their shoulders the boatmen peer.

The flood was running from door to door— Two-feet-six on the earthen floor; Half-way up to the bed it ran, Where two pale women and one sick man Crouched, and looked at the water’s rise With horror set in their staring eyes; While the children wept as the water crept. But how the blood to their hearts high leapt As over the threshold the rescuers stepped, And, wrapped in blanket and shawl and coat, Carried the saved to the crazy boat!

Then Kelly circled the little lass With his strong right arm, and as in a glass Saw himself in her eyes that shone Sweet in a face that was drawn and wan: