To-day there is no one as happy as I,
Who am free of the hills, of the dales, of the sky,
As I ride o'er the moors while the lapwings cry.
I ride thro' the whin, watch the rabbits run,
Then slowly I turn to bask in the sun—
Then gallop away o'er the crest, like fun.
And Satan, you fiend, with your knowing ways
And tricks, that you dream of for days and days,
And mem'ries of maddening hours of the chase;
Do you feel the liberty of the wind,
That wakes the fern-land with kisses kind,
And seeks with caresses our lips to find?
To-day, for us both to be out is joy,
Tho' I am a girl with the soul of a boy,
And you are a horse, whom the spurs annoy.
To just be alive is a blessing rare,
In a world of beauty, endlessly fair;
For Satan and I, we have no care.
ALMSCLIFFE CRAG, WHARFEDALE.
* The name of my horse.