The Last Leap

Adam Lindsay Gordon

ALL is over! fleet career,

Dash of greyhound slipping thongs,

Flight of falcon, bound of deer,

Mad hoof-thunder in our rear,

Cold air rushing up our lungs,

Din of many tongues.

Once again, one struggle good,

One vain effort;?he must dwell

Near the shifted post, that stood

Where the splinters of the wood,

Lying in the torn tracks, tell

How he struck and fell.

Crest where cold drops beaded cling,

Small ear drooping, nostril full,

Glazing to a scarlet ring,

Flanks and haunches quivering,

Sinews stiffening, void and null,

Dumb eyes sorrowful.

Satin coat that seems to shine

Duller now, black braided tress

That a softer hand than mine

Far away was wont to twine,

That in meadows far from this

Softer lips might kiss.

All is over! this is death,

And I stand to watch thee die,

Brave old horse! with bated breath

Hardly drawn through tight-clenched teeth,

Lip indented deep, but eye

Only dull and dry.

Musing on the husk and chaff

Gathered where life?s tares are sown,

Thus I speak, and force a laugh,

That is half a sneer and half

An involuntary groan,

In a stifled tone?

Rest, old friend! thy day, though rife

With its toil, hath ended soon;

We have had our share of strife,

Tumblers in the masque of life,

In the pantomime of noon

Clown and pantaloon.

?With a flash that ends thy pain,

Respite and oblivion blest

Come to greet thee. I in vain

Fall: I rise to fall again:

Thou hast fallen to thy rest?

And thy fall is best