I went into the barn -- the west was red; The last beams shone into your vacant stall. No more your gallant, high-flung silver head Is lifted eagerly to hear my call, For honest, kindly Silver King is dead. They say you had no soul, my Silver King. They cannot prove it. In some future scene, When I, too, from this earth have taken wing, I'll look for you amid those 'pastures green'. Oh, will I find again the friend I seek, And feel your velvet nose against my cheek? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLACK RIDERS: 1 by STEPHEN CRANE THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW LINCOLN by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO SARAH TAYLOR by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE LAY OF ST. ALOYS; A LEGEND OF BLOIS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |