I have the mount on Courage to-day, And Death is riding the White, Through the paddock gate, with a smile at fate, To the track in the slanting light. The odds on Death are short, they say, And how shall a sportsman choose? There is just one test, you must ride your best, Then you win, if you win or lose. We face the flag on our hill-rimmed course, It falls to a perfect start. No waiting race -- we must set the pace. The pace that will break his heart. On the long back stretch we lead by a length, Old Courage asserting his pride, Till Death shows fight and calls on the White He rides! for he @3has@1 to ride. As we swing to the straight, we are still in the van, My horse at the top of his speed, With Death's coming fast -- we are nearing the last, And the last is already decreed. The horses, lapped to their saddle girths, Rush through like a storm-swept fire -- Death wins! Bravo! But I laugh in his face, As he noses me out at the wire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DRUM: THE NARRATIVE OF THE DEMON OF TEDWORTH by EDITH SITWELL EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 41. LOVE REQUIRES NO ENTREATIES by PHILIP AYRES CASSANDRA by RICHARD BARNFIELD NATALITIUM: MARTIJ 13, 1645 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE OLD HOUSE by LAURENCE BINYON |