^leciou!^ IKomtnt^, 



Have you felt the bound that follows — felt the rapid 



flight through air, 

 Heard the welcome "thud " on landing, with a little 



bit to spare ? 

 Have you felt the effort over as you ease him in his 



stride, 

 That such moments can't be valued; that it's ecstacy 



to ride 



Such a horse as this one, comrade ? 'tis a joy none 



can surpass, 

 With a streaming pack before you, and beneath you 



green, green grass. 

 I have felt such priceless moments, live them now 



ahnost again. 

 Seem to feel my chair the saddle, and my pen the 



foam-fleck'd rein. 



Would that life was fuller of them, for I rank a time 



like this 

 Second only (if it is so !) to a lovely woman's kiss ; 

 And the consequences after, if your horse is sound 



next day. 

 Aren't disastrous, whilst the sequel to the latter who 



shall say ? 

 Ride whilst nerve and pocket last you — Hunting is 



the sport of kings, 



