A hush, like death, is over the crowd;
D'you hear that distant cry?—
Then hark how it gathers, far and near,
One rolling, ringing, rattling cheer
As the race goes dashing by,
And away with the hats and caps in the air,
And the horses seem to fly...
Forward! forward! at railway speed,
There's one that has fairly taken the lead
In a style that can scarce miscarry;