Thomas Hardy — A woman driving

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