Mackerel Sky

I ride, ride, ride,

Through the spotted sunlight of an April forest
Down a pathway bewildered with crocus cups,

The wind dallies with the plume of my helmet.
I ride, ride,

Seeking those adventures to which I am dedicate,
Determined, but without alertness,

Ungraciously ignoring the salutations of the young, jocund leaves.

Lady,
Far as you are from me in distance of place,

I know you yet farther off in good will of heart.
Wherefore,
Although I make a brave show in armour of green and carnation
Rivetted with the flowers which are called "you-love-me-not" of white and yellow,
And on my shield a waning moon in a field of azure,

I am gayer in my colours than in my heart.