MY sandalled feet are firm and fleet,

My chariot wheels are splendid;

I rush and run before the sun

With balmy breezes blended;

O'er forest dry, past mountains high,

O'er snowy valleys hollow,

I sweep along with muffled song

And robin red-breasts follow.

Before my blade the snow wreaths fade,

The frosty blast I cripple;

The frozen stream wakes from its dream,

And straight begins to ripple;

I hush the wail along my trail

Past hamlet, home and hollow,

While on I go with noiseless flow

And robin red-breasts follow.

And like a psalm, benign and calm,

I blight the brow of winter;

I snap the chains that hold the reins—

The fields of ice I splinter;

And like the tide I run and ride,

The bated winds I swallow;

Triumphant still past rock and rill,

And robin red-breasts follow.

A wing of light from night to night

My perfumed chariot passes,

And I can hear in meadows clear

The whispering of the grasses;

With joyous face I onward race

Past hopeless height and hollow,

While swift and strong with simple song

My robin red-breasts follow.

The north wind bleeds—the rustling reeds

The happy news is telling,

And I can hear in forests near

The juicy leaf-buds swelling;

I onward rush without the thrush,

The red bird or the swallow,

You needn't mind, for close behind

My robin red-breasts follow.