When your homing carloads swing
Past us down the crisping lanes,
And your dazzling headlights fling
Snow-white roses on our reins,
Would we choose your sheltered flight,
Would we take your cushioned ease
For the wide and scented night
And the horse between our knees?
Breezes that your wheels o'erleap
Whisper round us as we ride;
Ours the star-bedusted deep
That your misted windows hide
And while speed may waft you soon
To your halls of warmth and light,
Is not ours the magic moon
Spilling silver from the night?
