Poem by Arthur Graeme West

Seeing Her off

A whistle ’mid the distant hills
            Shattered the silence grey,
She turned on me her great sad eyes,
            Then lightly skimmed away.

I followed slow her flying feet
            In idlest heaviness,
But oh! my heart it laught to see
            Roar through the proud express.

In the after silence and the gloom
            I found her there again,
And won three minutes more delight
            Before the second pain.

1. The End of the Second Year
2. God! How I Hate You!
3. The Traveller
4. On Reading Ballads

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