Waiting.
165
Dies from his eyes, and a strange dumb smart
Falls like a shadow across his heart.
He remembers, and yes, though he's only a horse,
Remembers it all with a dull remorse—
That last wild run on the afternoon
Of the blue and white of a golden June,
When he would be first in the eager crush,
When he would not steady his reckless rush,
Remembers the glorious thunder of feet
On the level plain, where the hedges meet,
Remembers how proudly he led the field
With a passionate daring that would not yield,
The lust of conquest was in his brain,
And he would not answer the guiding rein,
But seized the bit in his teeth, and flew
Like a soul possessed, and never knew
The fence was there, till with a crash
He struck and fell, and in a flash
The sky was hurtling overhead,
A hideous vision, black and red.
He heard one groan, one quivering breath,
And then, the eloquent hush of death.
Ah! even now as he stands alone,
He seems to hear that one deep groan,
Falls like a shadow across his heart.
He remembers, and yes, though he's only a horse,
Remembers it all with a dull remorse—
That last wild run on the afternoon
Of the blue and white of a golden June,
When he would be first in the eager crush,
When he would not steady his reckless rush,
Remembers the glorious thunder of feet
On the level plain, where the hedges meet,
Remembers how proudly he led the field
With a passionate daring that would not yield,
The lust of conquest was in his brain,
And he would not answer the guiding rein,
But seized the bit in his teeth, and flew
Like a soul possessed, and never knew
The fence was there, till with a crash
He struck and fell, and in a flash
The sky was hurtling overhead,
A hideous vision, black and red.
He heard one groan, one quivering breath,
And then, the eloquent hush of death.
Ah! even now as he stands alone,
He seems to hear that one deep groan,
