ON a white horse she goes All glad and green and gay, Half timid and half bold, As a child at play Who knows she's watched and shows Childhood's wandering sway. She is like a bright imp riding A butterfly on the wind, Wanton and uncertain, Being happy and blind; Yet in her delight, tears hiding, Fears crouched in her mind. And all is so confused As April sun with cloud That sables all the sky, The white is a black shroud. She droops, as shaken and bruised, No more gay or proud; The white horse wears a pall, The fields are gray with rime. So startling, so sullen, Night blots the day's prime. On bright thoughts dark wings fall Making a horror of Time. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILLIAM P. FRYE [FEBRUARY 28, 1915] by JEANNE ROBERT FOSTER SEVEN TIMES SIX [ - GIVING IN MARRIAGE] by JEAN INGELOW THE CHILD ALONE: 7. THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 115 by ALFRED TENNYSON |