Riding

If I should live again, Quick of sinew and vein O God, let me be young, With the honeycomb on my tongue, All in a moment flung With the dawn on a flowing plain, Riding, riding, riding, riding Between the sun and the rain.

If I, having been, must be, O God, let it be so, Swift and supple and free With a long journey to go, And the clink of the curb and the blow Of hooves, and the wind at my knee, Riding, riding, riding, riding Between the hills and the sea.