[Editor: A poem published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 June 1924.]
The Old Mail Coach
(Suggested by the Picture in “S.M. Herald.”)
They may carry them high by way of the sky,
Or hid in a submarine,
They may rush in loads o’er the iron roads,
Or sail on the seas between;
But never again will the wise years deign,
with all their wonder-ways,
The letters we sought when the mail was brought
In the brave old coaching days.
Do you forgot where the cross-roads met
By the river’s ripple sweet,
How the horse’s knew when the mail came through,
The track of the children’s feet?
They checked their speed for the settlers’ need
And the tiny hands that prayed,
Then galloped along, to the horn’s clear song
Lest Love should be delayed.
And no one told, though the birds were bold,
And sang “she’d long to wait,”
When Cupid’s own from the bag was shown
To the girl at the homestead gate.
Year out, year in, to the tooting din.
Not heeding Time’s encroach,
The horses ran — till a whistling plan
Did away with the old mail coach.
E. Beaufils Lamb.
The Sydney Morning Herald (Sydney, NSW), Saturday 7 June 1924, page 13