A Winter Ride

Amy Lowell

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Who shall declare the joy of the running!
Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

So with the stretch of the white road before me,
Shining snowcrystals rainbowed by the sun,
Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.
Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.

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Comments1
  • Erratic Ant

    Really loved this poem! Felt like I was flying. Isn't it amazing how words can capture such feelings of freedom and unity with nature? Kinda makes you wonder what was the poet's inspiration, right? πŸ€”πŸŒΎπŸŽ