MASTER

by: Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930)

      ASTER went a-hunting,
      When the leaves were falling;
      We saw him on the bridle path,
      We heard him gaily calling.
       
      'Oh master, master, come you back,
      For I have dreamed a dream so black!'
      A glint of steel from bit and heel,
      The chestnut cantered faster;
      A red flash seen amid the green,
      And so good-bye to master.
       
      Master came from hunting,
      Two silent comrades bore him;
      His eyes were dim, his face was white,
      The mare was led before him.
       
      'Oh, master, master, is it thus
      That you have come again to us?'
      I held my lady's ice-cold hand,
      They bore the hurdle past her;
      Why should they go so soft and slow?
      It matters not to master.

"Master" is reprinted from Songs of Action. A. Conan Doyle. London: John Murray, 1916.

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