Herbert Asquith

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.
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