Ride to the Lady - And Other Poems by Helen Gray Cone
page 5 of 59 (08%)
page 5 of 59 (08%)
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Trembling lips my lips have known,
Birdlike stir of the dove-soft eyne Under the kisses that make them mine! Only of thee, of thee, my need! Only to thee, to thee, I speed!" The Cross flashed by at the highway's turn; In a beam of the moon the Face shone stern. Far behind had the fight's din died; The shuddering stars in the welkin wide Crowded, crowded, to see him ride. The beating hearts of the stars aloof kept time to the beat of the horse's hoof, "What is the throb that thrills so sweet? Heart of my lady, I feel it beat!" But his own strong pulse the fainter fell, Like the failing tongue of a hushing bell. The flank of the great-limbed steed was wet Not alone with the started sweat. Fast, and fast, and the thick black wood Arched its cowl like a black friar's hood; Fast, and fast, and they plunged therein,-- But the viewless rider rode to win, Out of the wood to the highway's light Galloped the great-limbed steed in fright; The mail clashed cold, and the sad owl cried, And the weight of the dead oppressed his side. Fast, and fast, by the road he knew; |
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