Author's Note:
The persons, horses and events described in this poem are imaginary. No reference is made to any living person or horse.
The poem starts:
An hour before the race they talked together A pair of lovers in the mild March weather, Charles Cothill and the golden lady, Em.
Beautiful England's hands had fashioned them.
He was from Sleins, that manor up the Lithe; Riding the Downs had made his body blithe; Stalwart he was, and springy, hardened, swift, Able for perfect speed with perfect thrift, Man to the core yet moving like a lad. Dark honest eyes with merry gaze he had, A fine firm mouth, and wind-tan on his skin. He was to ride and ready to begin. He was to ride Right Royal, his own horse, In the English Chaser's Cup on Compton Course.
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