When Horses Are Saddled For Love
The saddle-slaves of Love are we
Who mount by sun and moon,
No matter what the season be
So long as it be soon!
The golden and the gray light
Have seen the girth-straps drawn
For Love that rules the daylight,
The dark and dusk and dawn.
What hoof beat on the gravel!
What haste with Love to be!
What snatching at the snaffle!
What reefing, head to knee!
Now faster still and faster!
The white Moon laughs above:
She knows we have no master
Except the Lord of Love.
The low road keeps the river,
The high road skirts the hill —
No road so short but ever
We find a shorter still;
And if the floods run blindly
Where Love, not Life is the loss,
Dame Fortune treats us kindly
And holds our hands across.
The Bush- Wind blows to meet us
As though she understands;
The hop-bush holds to greet us
A hundred clasping hands;
There’s not a bird but sings us
A welcome in the grove :
They know it is Love that brings us —
And all the world loves Love!
Be skies alight or leaden
Long miles bring no regret.
And if the white spurs redden
Our horses soon forget:
So toss the bars, my beauty !
And cream the reins with foam;
It’s ten moon-miles to duty.
And ten more dawn-miles home!
Gleam lights in the verandah;
Flash lamps across the lawn;
But soft the shadows yonder
Where reins are tightly di-awn.
Out there the dews are glistening;
The leaves are scarcely stirred,
So close the Night- Wind’s listening
To every whispered word!
The Moon she dips to morning;
The lamps are burning low,
Our love belated scorning . . .
“One kiss before I go !”
Now slowly through the starlight . . .
Slow, slow, in dreams away . . .
Till eastward gleams the far light
That leads the breaking Day.
Almost Sexy
For someone who often writes rather morbid poetry about mortality, these rhymed verses have a decidedly saucy flair. Using riding as a metaphor for something else perhaps? If you liked this you might also enjoy The Man From Snowy River.