Bridle Paths (Classic Reprint) - Tapa dura

Sinopsis

Excerpt from Bridle Paths

And laughed at the strange spectacle of men, Some eight in number, mounted and equipped For a month's ride in any weather. When The setting sun behind the cloud bank slipped, Taking his gold from every roof and spire, The horsemen, turning from the crowded street, Where curious eyes might scan their strange attire, O'er highways trodden by more humble feet, Reached, on the city's edge, a drovers' inn, And stabled there the horses for the night. Next morn their real journey would begin, Bringing each day some unfamiliar sight; But now they sought a club house, small and quaint, Midway Upon an alley, o'er the door A swinging head, well done in cracking paint. Bare was the board of damask, and the floor Was bare; but there was space for a good blaze Within the fireplace. The low walls were hung With relics, seeming to pierce through that haze, Which to a fading past has ever clung, The poet's script, the sculptor's plaque or bust The artist's sketch and books in cases shut, Each volume gathering undisturbed its dust, Its pages never read or even cut: For all these volumes on the crowded shelves, Essay or poem, history or romance, The members of the club had writ themselves, And no one thought the others' worth a glance.

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