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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538453" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Gallop from the Train</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though I can't afford a hunter -more's the pity,<br>I love a rousing gallop like the rest!-<br>Every morning as I travel to the city<br>I have five and forty minutes of the best.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As we leave our country station there's a holloa<br>(If it's but the engine whistle, never mind!).<br>By the window I am sitting, and I follow<br>Where the horn of fancy tells me of a find.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the rattle of our going comes the chorus,<br>'Tis a south wind and a proper scenting day,<br>There's a topping piece of country spread before us,<br>And I'll jump it all in fancy on the grey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How he dances as I edge him through the others;<br>He is fond of this finessing for a start,<br>Just a little bit more eager than his brothers<br>By a beat, or maybe two beats of his heart</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's a gap we know of leading from the stubble,<br>And we have it while the other people pass.<br>A crash behind us! Some one tasting trouble!<br>We are over, in the lead, and on the grass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How he lays him down to revel in his freedom!<br>How he snatches at his snaffle as he goes!<br>The field will have to gallop when we lead 'em!<br>Hark, behind us! There's another on his nose!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here's an oak rail with a trappy ditch behind it,<br>And I feel the little beggar-shortening stride.<br>It's a big one, but I know he wouldn't mind it<br>Were it twice as big and half again as wide!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So I catch him by the head a little shorter,<br>And his answer comes a-thrilling from the bit;<br>Then I loose him, and he flies it. What a snorter!<br>And he never made the shadow of a hit!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So we take those rasping fences -well, perhaps a wee bit faster<br>Than we'd take 'em if we were not on a train!<br>And there's not a soul before us but the huntsman and the Master<br>And a toiling field is squandered once again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By a grey suburban station, to the sullen air-brake's grinding,<br>We kill our dog fox handsomely at last.<br>It was five and forty minutes to the finish from the finding-<br>And at fifty miles an hour 'twas pretty fast!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Henry+Ogilvie">William Henry Ogilvie</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538453" data-title="A Gallop from the Train de William Henry Ogilvie" data-description="Though I can't afford a hunter -more's the pity,
I love a rousing gallop like the rest!-
Every morning as I travel to the city
I have five and forty minutes of the best.

As we leave our country station there's a holloa
(If it's but the engine whi..."></div>
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