Classic Poem

The starlings fly in the windy sky,
The rabbits run out a-row,
The pheasants stalk in the stubble dry,
As I tramp in the evenglow,—
As I tramp, tramp, tramp, and grow
More weary at every stride,
And think, as the riders pass and go—
If I had a horse to ride!

The Farmer trots by on his roadster high,
The Squire on his pony low;
Young Miss sweeps out from the Park-Gate nigh,
And canters away with her beau:—
They are proud of themselves, I trow,
But couldn't I too show pride?
And couldn't I too cut a dash and show,
If I had a horse to ride?

The Farmer is four times as fat as I,
The Squire he is blind and slow;
Young Miss has not nearly so bright an eye
As Bess at the ‘Barley Mow’;—
Ah, wouldn't I cry ‘Gee-hup, Gee-ho,’
And wouldn't I bang his side,
And wouldn't I teach him to gallop it though,
If I had a horse to ride!

ENVOY .

It was only a Beggar that grumbled so,
As his blistered feeThe eyed;
But the cry is a cry that we all of us know—
If I had a horse to ride!