WHAT great yoked brutes with briskets low, With wrinkled necks like buffalo, With round, brown, liquid, pleading eyes, That turned so slow and sad to you, That shone like love's eyes soft with tears, That seemed to plead, and make replies, The while they bowed their necks and drew The creaking load; and looked at you. Their sable briskets swept the ground, Their cloven feet kept solemn sound. Two sullen bullocks led the line, Their great eyes shining bright like wine; Two sullen captive kings were they, That had in time held herds at bay, And even now they crushed the sod With stolid sense of majesty, And stately stepped and stately trod, As if 't were something still to be Kings even in captivity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MINSTREL OF THE SUN by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 42. AUGMENTED BY FAVOURABLE BLASTS by PHILIP AYRES CHRIST THE CONSOLER by HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER LANDSCAPE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE DIFFERENCE by ANGELO PHILIP BERTOCCI SARCOPSYLLA PENETRANS by ALTA WRENWICK BROWN |