A Hunting Morning
Put the saddle on the mare, For the wet winds blow; There's winter in the air, And autumn all below. For the red leaves are flying And the red bracken dying, And the red fox lying Where the oziers grow. Put the bridle on the mare, For my blood runs chill; And my heart, it is there, On the heather-tufted hill, With the gray skies o'er us, And the long-drawn chorus Of a running pack before us From the find to the kill. Then lead round the mare, For it's time that we began, And away with thought and care, Save to live and be a man, While the keen air is blowing, And the huntsman holloing, And the black mare going As the black mare can.
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"Put the saddle on the mare,..."
Arthur Conan Doyle's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "A Hunting Morning"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...