Arthur Conan Doyle

«Songs of Action» (1898). 12. Master

   	Master went a-hunting,
      		When the leaves were falling;
   	We saw him on the bridle path,
      		We heard him gaily calling.
‘Oh master, master, come you back,
For I have dreamed a dream so black!’
   	A glint of steel from bit and heel,
      		The chestnut cantered faster;
   	A red flash seen amid the green,
      		And so good-bye to master.

   	Master came from hunting,
      		Two silent comrades bore him;
   	His eyes were dim, his face was white,
      		The mare was led before him.
‘Oh, master, master, is it thus
That you have come again to us?’
   	I held my lady’s ice-cold hand,
      		They bore the hurdle past her;
   	Why should they go so soft and slow?
      		It matters not to master.