Anne Evans: Poems and Music With Memorial Preface by Anne Thackeray Ritchie |
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THE HARD RIDER.
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 | Anne Evans: Poems and Music |  |
17
THE HARD RIDER.
Taveller of mien so high,
Tell me who thou art, and why
Toward the mountain's cloudy brow
Spurring up the rocky steep?
Very brilliant is thine eye;
Yet methinks to view it now
That proud eye would never weep,
Never warm with kindly glee—
And thou lookest fixedly,
As one a-moving in his sleep:
Thou hast ridden many a mile:
Turn and rest thee here awhile!
Tell me who thou art, and why
Toward the mountain's cloudy brow
Spurring up the rocky steep?
Very brilliant is thine eye;
Yet methinks to view it now
That proud eye would never weep,
Never warm with kindly glee—
And thou lookest fixedly,
As one a-moving in his sleep:
Thou hast ridden many a mile:
Turn and rest thee here awhile!
“I am Mind! I cannot stay!
I have far to ride to-day!
I have much to mark and measure,
Scorning pain and slighting pleasure
If I linger, death may find me!
Dost not hear the cry behind me?
Time is at my heels—away!
I am Mind: I cannot stay!”
I have far to ride to-day!
I have much to mark and measure,
Scorning pain and slighting pleasure
If I linger, death may find me!
Dost not hear the cry behind me?
Time is at my heels—away!
I am Mind: I cannot stay!”
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What is that thou ridest on,
All so ghastly, worn and wan,
Piteously faint and lame?
All so ghastly, worn and wan,
Piteously faint and lame?
“'Tis the lazy Mortal Frame!
Let it be! Whate'er betide,
I am master: I must ride!”
Let it be! Whate'er betide,
I am master: I must ride!”
Tarry yet: I fain would see
What that hidden weight may be.
Is thy cloak so gaily spread
Over something cold and dead?
What that hidden weight may be.
Is thy cloak so gaily spread
Over something cold and dead?
“Nay, it is a living Heart!
Now and then I feel it start;
But through fasting on the way
Droop it doth, and droop it may!
'Tis a weak and idle thing:
In the morning it would sing:
Ere the noon it fell to weeping:
Let it be: 'tis better sleeping!”
Now and then I feel it start;
But through fasting on the way
Droop it doth, and droop it may!
'Tis a weak and idle thing:
In the morning it would sing:
Ere the noon it fell to weeping:
Let it be: 'tis better sleeping!”
Sleeping, dying, who can tell?
Wake it up, thou tyrant fell!
Simple food the heart will nourish,
Fruits which by the roadside flourish:
Cruel! couldst thou never stay
These to pluck upon thy way?
Wake it up, thou tyrant fell!
Simple food the heart will nourish,
Fruits which by the roadside flourish:
Cruel! couldst thou never stay
These to pluck upon thy way?
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Wake it up, or naught avail thee
All the riches thou canst earn:
If the heart's alliance fail thee,
Into clay thy gold will turn!
Spare the spur! Thy wretched steed,
Once so comely, strong, and brave,
Madly urged beyond his speed,
Doth but drag thee to the grave!
All the riches thou canst earn:
If the heart's alliance fail thee,
Into clay thy gold will turn!
Spare the spur! Thy wretched steed,
Once so comely, strong, and brave,
Madly urged beyond his speed,
Doth but drag thee to the grave!
| Anne Evans: Poems and Music | |