'My love, my beautiful, my very own.'
So she had loved. Another man had had her;
She had been his with passion in the night;
An agony of envy made him sadder,
Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight--
O he would keep his image of her white.
The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flat
What kind of gum-tree he was gaping at.
It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came,
To take his weekly five and twenty shilling