Splashing along the boggy woods all day, <br />And over brambled hedge and holding clay, <br />I shall not think of him: <br />But when the watery fields grow brown and dim, <br />And hounds have lost their fox, and horses tire, <br />I know that he’ll be with me on my way <br />Home through the darkness to the evening fire. <br />He’s jumped each stile along the glistening lanes; <br />His hand will be upon the mud-soaked reins; <br />Hearing the saddle creak, <br />He’ll wonder if the frost will come next week. <br />I shall forget him in the morning light; <br />And while we gallop on he will not speak: <br />But at the stable-door he’ll say good-night.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/together-5/
