Riding
FILL up, fill up the stirrup-cup!
The wine is running free:
The blue veils of the Spring are out;
She dances on the sea.
In fields of love, in lanes of laughter,
Slacken not the pace:
Care not for Him, who follows after,
And wins at last the race.
Past pear and apple-orchards,
The bramble and the rose,
And out across the swinging turf
To where the sea-wind goes:
To horse! To horse! the time is short;
Soon will the day be done:
We'll gallop on the morning grass,
And drink the rising sun:
And onward through the upland,
To see the plains unfurled,
And armies of the stars go down
Over the brink of the world.
poem by Herbert Asquith
Added by Poetry Lover
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