53 



And forcing the running, discarding all cunning, 

 A length to the front went the rider in green. 



A long strip of stubble, and then the big double — 

 Two stiff flights of rails, with a quickset between. 



She raced at the rasper — I felt my knees grasp her ; 



I found my hands give to the strain on the bit. 

 She rose when the Clown did — our silks as we bounded 



Brushed lightly — our stirrups clashed loops as we hit. 



Arise, steeply sloping, a fence with stone coping — 

 The last : we diverged round the base of the hill. 



His path was the nearer — his leap was the clearer — 

 I flogged up the straight, and he led sitting still. 



She came to his quarter, and on still I brought her, 

 And up to his girths and his breast-plate she drew, 



A short prayer from Neville just reached me — "the 

 devil ! " 

 He muttered — locked level, the hurdles we flew. 



A hum of hoarse cheering — a dense crowd careering — 

 All sights seen obscurely — all shouts vaguely heard : 



"The green wins!" "the crimson!" the multitude 

 swims on: 

 The figures are blended — the features are blurred. 



" The horse is her master ! " " the green forges past her !" 

 " The Clown will outlast her — the Clown wins ! the 

 Clown ! " 



The white railing races, with all the white faces — 

 The chesnut outpaces, outstretches the brown ! 



