"The Red Horse." by Norah M. Holland (1876-1925)
HE came and whinnied at my door,
The wild red horse, with flowing mane;
And I–I crossed the threshold o'er,
Leaving behind my wonted life,
And hope of joy, and fear of pain,
And clasp of friend, and kiss of wife,
And clinging touch of childish hands,
And love and laughter, grief and glee,
And rode him out across the sands
Beside a dark, mysterious sea.
Across my face his mane was blown,
I saw the eddying stars grow dim,
And suddenly the past had grown
A dream of weariness gone by,
And I was fain to ride with him
Forever up a darkening sky,
And hear the far, thin, fairy tune
That through the darkness seemed to beat,
Until at length the crescent moon
Was lying underneath our feet.
And there the unknown beaches lay
With stars for silvery pebbles strown,
And thin and faint and far away
Came all the noises of the world,
And up those glimmering reaches blown
The whispering waves of darkness curled.
And there my wild steed paused at last,
And there, wrapped round in dreams, I lie,
And in the wind that whistles past
I hear a far, faint, fairy cry.