Ghosts.

In the lush grass and mist,
By the dawn sun gold-kist,
On the banks of the river,
We shall live forever.
On the plain's wild, wide sweep,
Where eternal years sleep,
With unnumbered ghosts, through the mist and the grass,
We gallop forever, forever we pass—
Shades from a tale that will never be told
By the green of the grass, and the blue and the gold—
To the dream of dark mountains, piercing the sky—
My horse and I.

Though his hoofs will not leap—
He lieth asleep—
In wild gallop there, ever again,
On the blue and gold plain;
Though life carries me on
From dreams long since gone,
They'll remember forever,
The trees by the river—
Willows that weap and poplars that shiver
Gold in the sun, and the gorse and the broom,
And the silver-grey plume
Of the toi-toi that blows
Where the grey river flows—
The beat of wild hoofs, like the rolling of drums—
He comes—oh, he comes!
With his old esctasy,
Like the waves of the sea
That will never be still.
He comes home from the hill,
To race by the river
Forever and ever.

Under the sky,
Ghosts, we pass by,
My horse and I.

E. Mary Gurney.

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