The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 10, Issue 9 (December 2, 1935)
I've ridden out the droving roads that skirt the dim blue bays, The long white roads unfurling slow into the seaward haze.
I've heard the picks ring bells on rock, down in the cold dark mine, And sifted out the gravel dregs where the bright gold nuggets shine.
I've ridden mountain tracks at dawn, where the wild hill horses roam, And the turf flies high from spurning hoofs, and the wind is wet with foam.
I've blazed a trail in the timber bush, by the bell-bird's anvil slow, And rafted logs on the riverways where the brown flood-torrents flow.
And then one night, up on the hills, on a wild white Arab mare, I saw you ride out of the sun, out of the golden flare.
I saw you once, and though I rode into the darkening day'
The memory of that upland road still follows all the way!
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