Old friends are all meeting and gathered together
In batches, discussing the crops and the weather;
It has been a hard struggle for some with the rent,
But their troubles grow light as the talk turns on scent.
The landlord and tenant, the farmer and squire,
Have all had to suffer and pocket their ire,
[Pg 258]At the sun's fitful gleam and the rain's ceaseless pour;
But they meet in good fellowship round the inn-door.
Their thoughts are all bent upon horses and hounds,
For shortly the covert will echo with sounds,
As the eager pack top the wood-fence with a crash,
The young entry all bustle and brimful of dash.
Now see to your girths if you mean to be there.
Old Tom looks like business; his hand's in the air.
A whimper—a chorus—hark, holloa! they've found,
And his old mare pops over the rails with a bound.
[Pg 259]Away fling that weed, catch your horse by the head,
He's young, and he's hot, but he's clean thoroughbred;
Don't rush at the timber or else you'll be down.
Let him see what's before him—he'll jump o'er a town.
They are over the brook, which is bankful............