THE SAD YEARS
THE BLACK HORSEMAN
Lift me up from this bed of sickness;
I am going out to meet the summer.
I will run into the arms of Sunshine
And be so comforted, the first new-comer.
“I will lift you up,” said the black horseman.
I shall climb over the lone hill-tops,
I shall sail unto the far places,
Eat of wheaten bread and the wild honey,
See the dark eyes of Eastern races.
“You shall come with me,” said the black horseman.
Lay me down on my bed of dreaming.
It is best, for am I not too weary
Walking the white wide roads about the world?
Here night is not too long, nor day too dreary.
“Do you not fear me?” said the black horseman.
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