Читать книгу In the Saddle: A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding - Various - Страница 9

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We ride and ride. High on the hills The fir-trees stretch into the sky; The birches, which the deep calm stills, Quiver again as we speed by.

Beside the road a shallow stream Goes leaping o'er its rocky bed: Here lie the corn-fields with a gleam Of daisies white and poppies red.

A faint star trembles in the west; A fire-fly sparkles, fluttering bright Against the mountain's sombre breast; And yonder shines a village light.

Oh! could I creep into thine arms Beloved! and upon thy face Read the arrest of dire alarms That press me close; from thy embrace

View the sweet earth as on we ride. Alas! how vain our longings are! Already night is spreading wide Her sable wing, and thou art far.

Owen Innsly.