SPLASHING along the boggy woods all day, And over brambled hedge and holding clay, I shall not think of him: But when the watery fields grow brown and dim, And hounds have lost their fox, and horses tire, I know that he'll be with me on my way Home through the darkness to the evening fire. He's jumped each stile along the glistening lanes; His hand will be upon the mud-soaked reins; Hearing the saddle creak, He'll wonder if the frost will come next week. I shall forget him in the morning light; And while we gallop on he will not speak: But at the stable-door he'll say good-night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD WHEN MALINDY SINGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE CHURCH WINDOWS by GEORGE HERBERT WHEN by SARAH CHAUNCEY WOOLSEY THORWALDSEN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH OVERTONES by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |