A woman driving Thomas Hardy
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How she held up the horses’ heads,
  Firm-lipped, with steady rein,
Down that grim steep the coastguard treads,
  Till all was safe again!
With form erect and keen contour
  She passed against the sea,
And, dipping into the chine’s obscure,
  Was seen no more by me.
To others she appeared anew
  At times of dusky light,
But always, so they told, withdrew
  From close and curious sight.
Some said her silent wheels would roll
  Rutless on softest loam,
And even that her steeds’ footfall
  Sank not upon the foam.
Where drives she now? It may be where
  No mortal horses are,
But in a chariot of the air
  Towards some radiant star.
  Firm-lipped, with steady rein,
Down that grim steep the coastguard treads,
  Till all was safe again!
With form erect and keen contour
  She passed against the sea,
And, dipping into the chine’s obscure,
  Was seen no more by me.
To others she appeared anew
  At times of dusky light,
But always, so they told, withdrew
  From close and curious sight.
Some said her silent wheels would roll
  Rutless on softest loam,
And even that her steeds’ footfall
  Sank not upon the foam.
Where drives she now? It may be where
  No mortal horses are,
But in a chariot of the air
  Towards some radiant star.
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