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Siegfried Sassoon - Together
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SPLASHING along the boggy woods all day,	 
And over brambled hedge and holding clay,	 
I shall not think of him:	 
But when the watery fields grow brown and dim,	 
And hounds have lost their fox, and horses tire,	         
I know that he’ll be with me on my way	 
Home through the darkness to the evening fire.	 
He’s jumped each stile along the glistening lanes;	 
His hand will be upon the mud-soaked reins;	 
Hearing the saddle creak,	  
He’ll wonder if the frost will come next week.	 
I shall forget him in the morning light;	 
And while we gallop on he will not speak:	 
But at the stable-door he’ll say good-night.
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