THE GIRLS WHO RIDE 



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N mettled hunter seated firm, 

 In form and grace complete. 

 The dullest heart will light and burn 

 As we the fair Dianas greet. 



No picture is their peer. 



For Art must stand aside ; 



For them I shout my cheer, — 



Hurrah for the girls who ride 1 



In salon they may smile 



Or look demure and sweet. 



But glances cannot so beguile 



As those that grace the " meet ; " 



Fresh air and riding are blended wine 



On hunters of easy stride ; 



Drink, drink, the vintage rich, divine ! 



Hurrah for the girls who ride ! 



With cheek aglow and flashing eye. 

 Their faces with radiance lit, — 



