| Edwin Arlington Robinson (1869–1935). Collected Poems. 1921. |
| |
| VIII. Avon’s Harvest, Etc. |
| 13. The Long Race |
| |
| UP the old hill to the old house again | |
| Where fifty years ago the friend was young | |
| Who should be waiting somewhere there among | |
| Old things that least remembered most remain, | |
| He toiled on with a pleasure that was pain | 5 |
| To think how soon asunder would be flung | |
| The curtain half a century had hung | |
| Between the two ambitions they had slain. | |
| |
| They dredged an hour for words, and then were done. | |
| “Good-bye!… You have the same old weather-vane— | 10 |
| Your little horse that’s always on the run.” | |
| And all the way down back to the next train, | |
| Down the old hill to the old road again, | |
| It seemed as if the little horse had won. | |
|
|
