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The Hoofs of Horses
Will H. Ogilivie

The hoofs of the horses, Oh! witching and sweet
Is the music earth steals from iron shod feet;
No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird
Can stir me as hoofs of the horses have stirred. 

They spurn disappointment and trample despair
And drown with the drumbeats the challenge of care.
With scarlet and silk for their banners above
They are swifter than fortune and sweeter than love.

 On wings of the morning they gather and fly
In the hush of the night I hear them go by.
The horses of memory thundering through
With flashing white fetlocks all wet with the dew. 

When you lay me to slumber no spot can you can choose
But will ring to the rhthym of galloping shoes
And under the daisies no grave be so deep
But the hoofs of the horses shall sound in my sleep.