Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern American Poetry. 1919.
Louise Imogen Guiney18611920The Wild Ride
I
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.
Weatherworn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion,
With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:
What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.
And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam:
Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing.
A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty;
We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.
We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil.
Thou leadest, O God! All’s well with Thy troopers that follow.