THE CHASE
DOWN the long lanes of Arcadie
My lady canters merrily;
The grain is bleaching in the sun,
The russet hickories confer,
And mounted on old Cheveron
With laughing call I follow her.
The maples stand in flaming red,
The sturdy brakes are sere and dead;
But still my lady canters on
Through field and wood and busy town,
And mounted on old Cheveron
I try to ride her down.
Through the long lanes of Arcadie
The crickets skip and chirp to me;
My lady's just 'round yonder bend,
Methinks I hear her call to me—
Methinks our chase is at an end
Through these long lanes of Arcadie!
Nay, still she canters down the lane
With floating skirt and loosened rein.
We've traveled all this summer land,
And still we mount and gallop on;
Sometimes she turns and waves her hand,
A challenge to old Cheveron.
Through all this land of Arcadie
She leads old Cheveron and me,
And how her good mount stands it so
Is really more than I can see;
The valleys now are white with snow,
Yet still we ride through Arcadie.
Old Cheveron has cast his shoes!
The Chase is up, my Lady Muse!