O WHO was it saddled White Star last night, And who was it saddled White Star? You can read his track to the rails and back And down the creek ever so far. O, moonlight is lovers' light, Somebody knows, And witch-time the season to woo, And down in the bend where the kurrajong grows The tracks have been trodden by two! O, who was it galloped White Star last night, When gold stars jewelled the sky? You can see the brand of saddle and band In sweat that is clotted and dry. O, Somebody raced, with the world asleep, To a tryst that Somebody knew, And over the blue-grass fetlock-deep The white hoofs scattered the dew! O, who was it fastened White Star last night To a bough of the kurrajong-tree? The deep-set grooves of his restless hooves Are there for the world to see. O, Somebody left him for true love's sake, And Somebody left him long, For horses may hunger and bridles break When true love fashions her song! O, who was it fondled White Star last night When Somebody whispered adieu, And plaited the grey of his mane in a way That never those grey locks grew? And who was it bent from his saddle-bow To the plea of an upturned face, While down in the bend where the kurrajongs grow The world stood still for a space? O, the lover who saddled White Star last night It is very easy to guess, For his face is bright with a new-found light And a joy that his eyes confess. O, Somebody met in the moonlight snow Someone that cared to be kissed, And the veriest dolt in the world may know Who rode to the moonlight tryst! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBINSON CRUSOE ['S STORY, OR ISLAND] by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING by ROBERT FROST ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER by JOHN KEATS A DREAM OF DEATH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THAT GENERAL UTILITY RAG, BY OUR OWN IRVING BERLIN by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS EN PASSANT by EDITH COURTENAY BABBITT ON SEEING AN OLD POET IN THE CAFE ROYAL by JOHN BETJEMAN THE ANGRY ONES by BERTON BRALEY TO THE READER OF MASTER WILLIAM D'AVENANT'S PLAY, 'THE WITS' by THOMAS CAREW |