Classic Poem

A man's mood can be not unlike the place, the time of day, the weather:
One afternoon, toward sundown, these were toned for me, all three together.
Riding with ruminant mind, I stared at Salisbury Plain's November distance,
By solitude imbued, responsive to my world without resistance.

Mild weather after wind and rain; earth, sky, and season all quiescent.
‘If this be my biography.’ I mused, ‘to pace along is pleasant;
And after all, my unambitious mid-maturity deserves
—If luck befriends me thus—this liberal landscape's contour lines and curves.’

There on that ancient drove-road, leading to nowhere now, my horse
Grazed and then gazed, as I did, over the quietly coloured miles.
Though sign-posts pointed toward the dread of war, ourselves, of course,
Were only humdrum joggers on through time. Remembering it one smiles.