Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE RIDE, by CLINTON SCOLLARD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE RIDE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: We rose in the clear, cool dawning, and greeted the eastern star
Last Line: And ride to the pearl of cities from the huts of kerf hawar.
Subject(s): Horseback Riding; Middle East; Travel; Near East; Levant; Journeys; Trips


WE rose in the clear, cool dawning, and greeted the eastern star;
"To saddle!" -- our shout rang sharply out by the huts of Kerf Hawar.
The dervish slept by the wayside, the dog still dozed by the door,
The yashmaked maid, with her water-jar, bent low by the swift stream's shore.
The poplar leaves, as we mounted, turned white in the veering wind,
And the icy peak of Hermon shone pyramidal behind.

We had looked on the towers of Hebron, and seen the sunlight wane
Over Zion's massive citadel, and Omar's holy fane;
We had passed with pilgrim footsteps over Judah's rocks and rills,
And seen the anemone-torches flare on the Galilean hills.
But our eager hearts cried, "Onward! -- beyond are the fairest skies;
Where rippling Barada silvers down the bower of the Prophet lies!"

So we plunged through the tranquil twilight ere the sun rolled grandly up,
And brimmed the sky with its amber as Lebanon wine a cup.
We dashed down the bare brown wadies, where echo called from the crag;
There was never a hoof to linger, and never a foot to lag;
We raced where the land lay level, and we spurred it, black and bay,
Till the crimson bud of the morning flowered full into dazzling day.

The dim, dark speck in the distance grew green and broad and large,
And lo, a minaret's slender spear on the line of its widening marge!
Then, oh, what a cheer we lifted, and, oh, how we forward flew,
And, oh, the balm of the greeting breeze that out from the gardens blew!
And now we rode in the shadow of boughs that were blossom-sweet,
While the gurgle of crystal waters rilled up through the swooning heat.

Pink were the rich pomegranates, a rosy cloud to the sight,
And the fluttering bloom of the orange was white in the zenith light;
And sudden, or ever we dreamed it, did the orchards give apart,
And there was the bowered city with the flood of its orient heart;
There was the endless pageant that surged through the arching gate;
There was the slim Bride's Minaret, and the ancient "street called Straight."

For us there were growing marvels, and a wonder-wealth untold
In the opulent glow of the daytime, in night with its moon of gold;
For sherbet and song and roses, with a love-smile flashed between,
Recur, like the beat of a measure, in the life of a Damascene. --
We will rise again in visions, by the gleam of the morning star,
And ride to the pearl of cities from the huts of Kerf Hawar.





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