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 And he felt that for her life he’d give his own. Too short a moment her cheek was pressed Close to the beat of his spray-wet breast; While her hair just lay like a golden ray, The last farewell of a passing day. Gently he settled her down in the stern With a tender smile, and had time to turn To look to the others, and then he saw That the craft was full and could hold no more. He looked at the party—old, young, and sick— While he had no tie, neither wife nor chick.

Then with a shove he sent out the boat Far on the turbid stream afloat. ‘Pull!’ said Kelly; ‘now pull!’ said he; ‘Pull with your load and come back for me. You may be late, but at any rate I’m better able than you to wait.’ They pulled and, looking back, saw him stand Shading his eyes with his big, rough hand— Silent, patient, and smiling-faced, With the water curling around his waist.

Return they did, but they found him not: Nought but the chimney then marked the spot. They found him not when the boat went back— Never a trace of him, never a track; Only the sigh and the dreary cry Of the gums that had wept to see him die: