Old Friends by Will M. Fleming

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They ride into the sunset,
   The years we used to know,
Their eyes alight with wisdom,
   Their easy hands held low;

Bowed heads but hearts undaunted,
   The harvest of their day
They leave for those who follow
   To gather as they may.

For them has been the tilling,
   And their's has been the toil
That makes forever fruitful
   The waiting virgin soil.

They pass into the sunset,
   We watch them riding slow.  
As friends they will be waiting
   The years we used to know.  

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 27 July 1929

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on July 27, 2011 7:12 AM.

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