THE PADDOCK
Glancing excitedly—round the bend, and out!
Hear, all! A brown hen-feather’s off to the world,
This stirring morning.
And...I mayn’t be, Dapple!...
That’s it, enjoy yourself! a real good roll
....There! now a real good gallop.—Isn’t she fresh!
Everything is, this jolly, frisky day.
Shine, ripple, sail, race, grow, and blow, and flow—
All strength and relish, liveliness and joy,
All doing straight out just what Nature says,
Free to be free:—O fortunate Out-door Things!
You get the best of it. I must go in,
And, what? What must I do?
Wash up the dishes,
Sweep out the kitchen, put on dinner (Oh,
That hateful, daily, never-done-with dinner!
Why do we have to eat?), then, that disposed of—
Oh, what’s there ever to look forward to?
Well, it is coach-day, though; I can ride Dapple
Out to the road, and take these strawberries down,
And wait for mail—and, save newspapers, get none!
Oh dear! There’s scarcely anyone goes by coach,
There’s never anyone up or down the road,
Much less along the track, of course. Heigh-ho!
Eternal Paddock’s dull!....Then, when I’m back....
Oh, what does it matter? Play with Andy, read
Some stale old book, I’ve read six hundred times,
Get tea, and clear it; then—the empty evening!
Once in a blue moon, some one may drop in—
161
