Читать книгу In the Saddle: A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding - Various - Страница 2

'Mid tangled forest and o'er grass plains wide,

By many a devious path and bridle-way,

Through the short brightness of an Indian day,

In middle winter 'twas my lot to ride,

Skirting the round-topped, pine-clad mountain side,

While far away upon the steely blue

Horizon, half concealèd, half in view,

Himalay's peaks upreared their snow-crowned pride,

In utter purity and vast repose.

I, ere the first faint flush of morning glowed

Within her eastern chamber, took the road,

And, slowly riding between day and night,

I marked how, through the wan, imperfect light,

Ghost-like and gray loomed the eternal snows.

So near they seemed, each crack and crevice small

Like bas-relief work showed, while in the light

Of ruddy morn, gray changed through pink to white.

But soon the sun, up-climbing, flooded all

The heavens, and then a thin and misty pall

Of exhalations rose, and pale of hue

And fainter ever those far summits grew,

Until the day waned low, and shadows tall

Sloped eastward. Then once more, in radiance clear,

Of setting sunlight, beautiful as brief,

Each peak and crag stood out in bold relief,

Till, slowly, pink faded to ghostly gray.

So through life's morning, noontide, evening, may

Ideal hopes dawn, fade, and reappear.