Good-night! the horn's faint music
Through the twilight fades away:
The cold night mists come creeping —
O'er the fields we've ranged all day.
Now red o'er the hill-tops smoulders
The last of the wintry sun,
And here's a stave at parting
For the gallant day that's done!
A chill wind moans from the sunset:
There's a thresh of rain from the west,
And horse and hound and rider
Jog homeward now to rest, —
To rest and drowsy dreaming
Of many a long-past run,
And the wind on the well-loved moorland
And the gallant day that's done!
Notes
From LANCASHIRE HUNTING SONGS AND OTHER MOORLAND LAYS, edited by Cicely Fox Smith, published by J. E. Cornish, Ltd., Manchester, UK, © 1909, p. 31. First published in the ENGLISH ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE.
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