Here you will find the Poem Hounds going home in the Dark of poet William Henry Ogilvie
Rustle of feet in the roadside grass, Trample of horses' hoofs, and - Hark! Blast of an anxious horn! Hounds pass; Hounds going home in the dark. Bold was our huntsman galloping free On a difficult line to the hills to-day, But his hand is trembling against his knee At the hint of a light on the King's Highway. `Car!' And the gold spreads over the sky ; `Keep to the front there! Stop them, Mark! ' Toot-toot-too-oot ! - ' Halloo, there !-Hi ! `- Hounds going home in the dark. Crack of a whip as the headlights near- Blind in the blaze they group and grope. `Curse the feller, and can't he hear? Put 'em across, there I-Cope, boys, cope! ' When never a star is hung in the sky, With never a lamp or a lantern spark, Huntsman and Whips go groping by, Blowing them home in the dark.