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I was not born to that country - I came there young, and walked Its ways, guidebook in hand With wonder and with love. As I grew older I ventured further; Dared walk down byways undescribed, Find new places, tend gardens, write Guidebooks myself that others might see. Yet - I was not born to that country Though I came there young, and My home was elsewhere.
One night as I sat in the lamp's yellow Glow, with an old book in my hand Out of the shadows came a knock to the door. I answered, I went out and I saw - Beyond the garden wall were riders. And some of their horse were black, And some of their horses were brown, But he that sat on the milk-white steed Went the nearest to the town. And the starlight gleamed on steel as they stood With the night wind blowing about them; It glinted on helm and sword, It gleamed on lance and spur. And aye as the horses swung their heads So the bells on their bridles rang.
None spoke; yet silent still, one Handed me the reins of a riderless horse. And wordless still they turned away And rode. There was thunder of hooves, Snorting of horses, streaming manes and tails. Cloaks cracked like whips in the wind of their going. And faint and far I heard one call "Wha daur meddle wi me?"
And there I stood at the garden gate With the reins in my hand and the wind in my face And a white steed warm beside me. Why should I walk, on two slow feet, when Four hooves might bear me fast and far? I went into the lands I knew, and then beyond. I rode about the lands I'd found, and they also Were no longer wide enough; I became A border rider, traveling far.
I was not born to that country Though I came there young. I love it well, the gardens that Another grew, and those that I myself have planted. I go there still at times, but Long since I threw them open For other eyes to see, and other hearts To love, and other hands to tend. Long since I rode out Beyond that fair country's borders Into new lands where none had walked, Where the Road that I followed ran West of the Moon and East of the Sun In a land that was new and old at once. Mine was the task to tell its tales, and Hope that others some day might follow.
I had to learn to walk Before I could learn to ride; I had to walk in that first fair land Before I could ride the border. It pleases me still to walk there betimes In the gardens so many have tended; But the horse the night wind brought for me Is ever at my shoulder. The steed that bears me furthest Is lighter than the wind - With silver is it shod before With burning gold behind. Perhaps I'm but a foolish lassie, A blacksmith's daughter ill-advised; But give me a choice, and I'll ride when I can, In the lands that I found just waiting for me, Out beyond the Border.
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