A Ride by the Sea
Crash of waves, and thunder of hoofs,
And a Cavalier song on the sea-drenched air.—
And ho! for a ride by the ocean's side!—
Ten miles of sand beach smooth and fair.
Strewn by the wind, by the strong waves packed,
Our course lies firm to the setting sun.
And ho! for a race!—By my lady's grace
We'll spur for a token e'er day is done.
“What?—a ribbon? a scarf? say this.”—
She looses the band from her struggling locks—
“'Tis yours”—setting spur—“with a kiss, good sir,
If you beat me from here to Consbury Rocks.”
A word, a pressure of heel and thigh—
Her bay mare's tail's in my sorrel's eyes.—
Speed! Kelly, speed! if you make that lead
A month in pasture shall be your prize!
The waves, the rocks, and the cliffs fly past
In a smother of sand from the bay mare's heels;
In the rush of the wind they are left behind—
An inch and an inch my Kelly steals.
No need of the spur! how he tells his pride
By the fall and rise of his great red mane,
By the ears laid back as he follows the track,
By the restive tug on the shortened rein!
My lady's hair is a tangle of gold:
I could catch it now with my bridle-arm.
Ye gods! it is fair in the sunset's glare!—
Ye gods!—and here is Consbury Farm!
Then ho! my boy, for the final spurt!
Now show them, my Kelly, what you can do!—
For yonder's the bend, and beyond—the end;
And Consbury Rocks swing full in view.
Grandly his great flanks heave and sink.
Does he know the guerdon? my Kelly, my pride!
One strong wild burst;—neither last nor first,
We whirl to the finish side by side.
“Now whose,”—as we merrily slacken rein—
“Now whose shall the kiss and the ribbon be?”
With a look so sly in her witch's eye,
“We'll divide the trophies, sir,” says she.
Straight, her loose tresses she gathers up,
And binds them again with her ribbon fine;
Then turns, lifts her face, as the horses pace—
And the kiss?—the kiss?—ah! that is mine!
Beat of hoofs, and murmur of waves,
And an old love-song on the sea-drenched air,—
And ho! for a ride by the ocean's side,
And a maiden to love me and kiss me there!
And a Cavalier song on the sea-drenched air.—
And ho! for a ride by the ocean's side!—
Ten miles of sand beach smooth and fair.
Strewn by the wind, by the strong waves packed,
Our course lies firm to the setting sun.
And ho! for a race!—By my lady's grace
We'll spur for a token e'er day is done.
“What?—a ribbon? a scarf? say this.”—
She looses the band from her struggling locks—
“'Tis yours”—setting spur—“with a kiss, good sir,
If you beat me from here to Consbury Rocks.”
A word, a pressure of heel and thigh—
Her bay mare's tail's in my sorrel's eyes.—
Speed! Kelly, speed! if you make that lead
A month in pasture shall be your prize!
The waves, the rocks, and the cliffs fly past
In a smother of sand from the bay mare's heels;
In the rush of the wind they are left behind—
An inch and an inch my Kelly steals.
No need of the spur! how he tells his pride
By the fall and rise of his great red mane,
By the ears laid back as he follows the track,
By the restive tug on the shortened rein!
My lady's hair is a tangle of gold:
I could catch it now with my bridle-arm.
Ye gods! it is fair in the sunset's glare!—
Ye gods!—and here is Consbury Farm!
Then ho! my boy, for the final spurt!
Now show them, my Kelly, what you can do!—
For yonder's the bend, and beyond—the end;
And Consbury Rocks swing full in view.
Grandly his great flanks heave and sink.
Does he know the guerdon? my Kelly, my pride!
One strong wild burst;—neither last nor first,
We whirl to the finish side by side.
“Now whose,”—as we merrily slacken rein—
“Now whose shall the kiss and the ribbon be?”
With a look so sly in her witch's eye,
“We'll divide the trophies, sir,” says she.
Straight, her loose tresses she gathers up,
And binds them again with her ribbon fine;
Then turns, lifts her face, as the horses pace—
And the kiss?—the kiss?—ah! that is mine!
Beat of hoofs, and murmur of waves,
And an old love-song on the sea-drenched air,—
And ho! for a ride by the ocean's side,
And a maiden to love me and kiss me there!
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