Riding at dawn, riding alone
No sound save the gentle thud
Of my horse's hooves as I ride him by dawn
Churning through dirt and through mud
Riding at dawn, riding alone
As the rain pours down from above
And the wind picks up and starts to howl
And I ride to the woman I love
Riding at dawn, riding alone
Through rain, through snow and through storm
To the maiden who waits to see me again
Riding alone, like the norm
Riding at dawn, riding alone
Riding full pelt through the rain
She knows I'm coming, she's knows I'll be there
And I'll take away her pain
Riding at dawn, riding alone
The wind whipping out my cape
With a horse at my side, but nobody there
Soon I will make my escape
Riding at dawn, riding alone
The last time I'll ride through the rain
And we'll ride together, as dawn becomes day
And I'll never ride alone again
A contest entry
- Second Index of First Lines by Keith.
525 points, ended April 12, 2008, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
great!
good writing. very good writing. and i know about that riding till dawn. thourgh, rain, snow, hail, fists, fight, knives, and all that stuff. GOD KNOWS, I KNOW!!! but my only thing is, i think you SHOULD be riding that horse, (or whatever it is!), instead of riding beside it. (or maybe that was my mistake...) love gypsyfish
-
-
Ah, I see where you got confused! There's another horse net to my own, with an empty saddle where my love is going to sit.
I haven't read through this one for quite a while so it's nice that you left me a comment which made me look again!
Thanks
Katie
-
-
Nice job. Pen on...~Poo~
-
This has a definite touch of Alfred Noyes about it, romantic and fast moving. Well done. Here's the original by Sir Henry Newbolt. Suitably swashbuckling:
Gillespie.
Riding at dawn, riding alone,
Gillespie left the town behind;
Before he turned by the Westward road
A horseman crossed him, staggering blind.
"The Devil's abroad in false Vellore,
The Devil that stabs by night," he said,
"Women and children, rank and file,
Dying and dead, dying and dead."
Without a word, without a groan,
Sudden and swift Gillespie turned,
The blood roared in his ears like fire,
Like fire the road beneath him burned.
He thundered back to Arcot gate,
He thundered up through Arcot town,
Before he thought a second thought
In the barrack yard he lighted down.
"Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons,
Sound to saddle and spur," he said;
"He that is ready may ride with me,
And he that can may ride ahead."
Fierce and fain, fierce and fain,
Behind him went the troopers grim,
They rode as ride the Light Dragoons
But never a man could ride with him.
Their rowels ripped their horses' sides,
Their hearts were red with a deeper goad,
But ever alone before them all
Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode.
Alone he came to false Vellore,
The walls were lined, the gates were barred;
Alone he walked where the bullets bit,
And called above to the Sergeant's Guard.
"Sergeant, Sergeant, over the gate,
Where are your officers all?" he said;
Heavily came the Sergeant's voice,
"There are two living and forty dead."
"A rope, a rope," Gillespie cried :
They bound their belts to serve his need.
There was not a rebel behind the wall
But laid his barrel and drew his bead.
There was not a rebel among them all
But pulled his trigger and cursed his aim,
For lightly swung and rightly swung
Over the gate Gillespie came.
He dressed the line, he led the charge,
They swept the wall like a stream in spate,
And roaring over the roar they heard
The galloper guns that burst the gate.
Fierce and fain, fierce and fain,
The troopers rode the reeking flight:
The very stones remember still
The end of them that stab by night.
They've kept the tale a hundred years,
They'll keep the tale a hundred more:
Riding at dawn, riding alone,
Gillespie came to false Vellore.
Thanks for entering.
Adding your comment:
