XXVIIHOMEWARD
A gallop through the mountain way,
With click, click, click, against the flint,—
Hard following on the flying day,
That backward flings a fiery tint.
With click, click, click, against the flint,—
Hard following on the flying day,
That backward flings a fiery tint.
The twilight pines stand dense and grim,
And sigh and sigh, "The day is dead;"
The virgin birches, tall and slim,
Wave shadowy arms across the red.
And sigh and sigh, "The day is dead;"
The virgin birches, tall and slim,
Wave shadowy arms across the red.
In brooding peace the uplands lie,
Stretched dimly in their evening rest;
As through their lifted calm I fly,
On, onward, to the happy West.
Stretched dimly in their evening rest;
As through their lifted calm I fly,
On, onward, to the happy West.
Oh West, heart-red, burn close before!
Pale, dreamy East, float far behind!
No pause, good steed,—a few miles more,
In yonder glow our rest we find.
Pale, dreamy East, float far behind!
No pause, good steed,—a few miles more,
In yonder glow our rest we find.
Urgent, we reach the downward hill,
The village darkens far below,—
Has aught befallen her of ill?
My eager heart leaps down to know.
The village darkens far below,—
Has aught befallen her of ill?
My eager heart leaps down to know.
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