Waiting.
164
Perhaps, on some sunny windless noon
He will bear far off the thrilling tune
Of baying hounds, that lightly floats
Across the upland in ringing notes,
And his eyes will flash, and his muscles strain
As he lives it over in dreams again,
And the blood leaps up with a sudden fire,
As he takes in his stride the wood-capped wire,
He feels live currents of wild delight,
Sympathies born of their headlong flight
Thrill from the slender sunburnt hands
That hold his reins, like electric bands.
He has given his strength and his matchless speed
To bis rider, who has inspired his steed
With his human courage, his dauntless soul,
And so they are merged into one grand whole,
Triumphantly filled with the power to dare
Anything, everything, whatsoe'er,
A magic that turns the air to wine,
The turf to elastic, and fills with a fine
Free flood of quicksilver every vein,
That hurries the pulses and fevers the brain.
'Tis only a dream! and the eager fire,
The sparkle that tells of his famous sire
He will bear far off the thrilling tune
Of baying hounds, that lightly floats
Across the upland in ringing notes,
And his eyes will flash, and his muscles strain
As he lives it over in dreams again,
And the blood leaps up with a sudden fire,
As he takes in his stride the wood-capped wire,
He feels live currents of wild delight,
Sympathies born of their headlong flight
Thrill from the slender sunburnt hands
That hold his reins, like electric bands.
He has given his strength and his matchless speed
To bis rider, who has inspired his steed
With his human courage, his dauntless soul,
And so they are merged into one grand whole,
Triumphantly filled with the power to dare
Anything, everything, whatsoe'er,
A magic that turns the air to wine,
The turf to elastic, and fills with a fine
Free flood of quicksilver every vein,
That hurries the pulses and fevers the brain.
'Tis only a dream! and the eager fire,
The sparkle that tells of his famous sire
