AS I rode out of Lochinvar <br />About me all the scene was fair; <br />The skies, with not a cloud to mar, <br />Were filled with fresh and dewy air, <br />While making song, a merry throng, <br />The thrushes warbled everywhere. <br />As I rode out of Lochinvar <br />Through Fairydom I seemed to go, <br />For round about, and near and far, <br />Enchanted lights began to glow; <br />And where I went, on what intent, <br />And who I was I did not know! <br />For lo, I met a troubadour <br />As I rode out of Lochinvar; <br />His like on earth is seen no more, <br />With feathered hat and gay guitar; <br />And loud and clear, and sweet to hear, <br />He sang a song of love and war. <br />As I rode out of Lochinvar <br />He sang a song I somehow knew, <br />The while he touched his gay guitar; <br />And when I asked him, 'Who are you?' <br />'Yourself!' he said — and bowed his head, <br />And vanished like the morning dew. <br />Though I may see him nevermore, <br />This much in very truth I ken, <br />That one, at heart a troubadour, <br />May seem a sober citizen, <br />Who sets afar his gay guitar <br />To seem just like his fellow men.<br /><br />Roderic Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hidden-heart-2/
