While the morning light beams on the fern-matted streams, <br />And the water-pools flash in its glow, <br />Down the ridges we fly, with a loud ringing cry -- <br />Down the ridges and gullies we go! <br />And the cattle we hunt -- they are racing in front, <br />With a roar like the thunder of waves, <br />As the beat and the beat of our swift horses' feet <br />Start the echoes away from their caves! <br />As the beat and the beat <br />Of our swift horses' feet <br />Start the echoes away from their caves! <br /> <br />Like a wintry shore that the waters ride o'er, <br />All the lowlands are filling with sound; <br />For swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain, <br />Like a tempest, are tearing the ground! <br />And we'll follow them hard to the rails of the yard, <br />O'er the gulches and mountain-tops grey, <br />Where the beat and the beat of our swift horses' feet <br />Will die with the echoes away! <br />Where the beat and the beat <br />Of our swift horses' feet <br />Will die with the echoes away!<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-of-the-cattle-hunters/
