Rustle of feet in the roadside grass, <br />Trample of horses' hoofs, and - Hark! <br />Blast of an anxious horn! Hounds pass; <br />Hounds going home in the dark. <br />Bold was our huntsman galloping free <br />On a difficult line to the hills to-day, <br />But his hand is trembling against his knee <br />At the hint of a light on the King's Highway. <br /> <br />‘ Car!' And the gold spreads over the sky ; <br />‘ Keep to the front there! Stop them, Mark! <br />' Toot-toot-too-oot ! - ' Halloo, there !-Hi ! ‘- <br />Hounds going home in the dark. <br />Crack of a whip as the headlights near- <br />Blind in the blaze they group and grope. <br />‘ Curse the feller, and can't he hear? <br />Put 'em across, there I-Cope, boys, cope! ' <br /> <br />When never a star is hung in the sky, <br />With never a lamp or a lantern spark, <br />Huntsman and Whips go groping by, <br />Blowing them home in the dark.<br /><br />William Henry Ogilvie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hounds-going-home-in-the-dark/
