UNLESS. 



Unless you can ride, when the foxhcmnds run, 



With the flying pack before you; 

 Unless you can feel, when led by none, 



That hell itself won't floor you; 

 Unless you can know, with big timber in front, 



Afith a big heart towards it you're striding; 

 Unless you can lead through a straight fast hunt 



Oh, fear to call it riding! 



Unless you can drive through a skirting crew 



To the place where you mean to ride; 

 Unless you can go on a slug or a screw 



As you would on your stable's pride; 

 Unless you can feel that it's heaven you're in 



As over the grass you are striding, 

 Unless you can know that to funk is to sin - 



Oh, never call it riding! 



After Mrs. Barrett-Browning, 



oOOo--- 



