Right Royal

Right Royal

He was from Sleins, that manor up the Lithe; Riding the Downs had made his body blithe; Stalwart he was, and springy, hardened, swift, Able for perfect speed with perfect thrift, Man to the core yet moving like a lad. Dark honest eyes with merry gaze he had, A fine firm mouth, and wind-tan on his skin. He was to ride and ready to begin. He was to ride Right Royal, his own horse, In the English Chaser's Cup on Compton Course. Pure colour and pure contour and pure grace Made the sweet marvel of her singing face; She was the very may-time that comes in When hawthorns bud and nightingales begin. To see her tread the red-tippt daisies white In the green fields all golden with delight, Was to believe Queen Venus come again, She was as dear as sunshine after rain; Such loveliness this golden lady had. All lovely things and pure things made her glad, But most she loved the things her lover loved, The windy Downlands where the kestrels roved, The sea of grasses that the wind runs over Where blundering beetles drunken from the clover Stumble about the startled passer-by. There on the great grass underneath the sky She loved to ride with him for hours on hours, Smelling the seasoned grass and those small flowers, Milkworts and thymes, that grow upon the Downs. There from a chalk edge they would see the towns: Smoke above trees, by day, or spires of churches Gleaming with swinging wind-cocks on their perches. Or windows flashing in the light, or trains Burrowing below white smoke across the plains. By night, the darkness of the valley set With scattered lights to where the ridges met And three great glares making the heaven dun, Oxford and Wallingford and Abingdon. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 6452
Author: Masefield, John
Release Date: Sep 1, 2004
Format: eBook
Language: English