Classic Poem

Invited by your sire's good-will
To me, I took the road
By Downley, over heath and hill,
To go to your abode;
And o'er my mare, as white as snow,
Full fain I sprightly threw
My leg, and in my stirrup's bow
I set my shining shoe,
And merry-hearted,
Briskly started
Out by our old yew.

But when, at last, the sun had set
Upon my road, too soon,
I found myself where three ways met
Below the western moon.
There stood a shining holly tree,
With firs of five-fold height,
But yet no guide-post held for me
An arm to send me right,
As I benighted,
Moon-belighted,
Turn'd my wheeling sight.

And one road down a ground-slope sank,
A darken'd, hollow way;
And one beside a heathy bank
Ran on as light as day;
And nigh it wound a shining brook,
Adown a shallow bed,
And thitherward my mare would look
With ever-steadfast head,
As if well knowing,
Without showing,
Whitherward I sped.

And shortly, from the eastern sky,
I found five bell-sounds sweep;
Your peal of bells—one shrill, one high,
One loud, one low, one deep—
And with my moonshade on before
My mare's two ears' white tips,
I soon had reached your gate, your door,
Your fire of blazing chips,
Where I, at meeting,
Found a greeting,
Out of many lips.

I never after that mistook
The right road of the three,
And well I knew the shallow brook,
And firs, and holly tree;
I ne'er mistook the road when day
Show'd houses from afar,
Nor when the moon was o'er my way,
Nor by the evening star,
As I rode spanking
On by banking,
Gapp'd for gate or bar.