HIS shirt of silk and trappings show his style; A wave of lace is bulging at his chest; And at his belt there is a pistol dressed, Shoved down at every moment's frown or smile. In his pyramidal sombrero, while He keeps his lonely state, garbed in his best, And on his lassooed steed he takes his rest, His saddle makes the very throne seem vile. Firmly he keeps his seat; crack goes his whip; The gleaming spurs against the horse's side, In all his glory rides he on his trip; So that you doubt if his Olympic form Would show man's triumph o'er the brute's fierce pride, Or 'tis some sculpture moving live and warm. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRESIDE by NATHANIEL COTTON EPISTLE TO MISS TERESA BLOUNT, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN by ALEXANDER POPE LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID by MATTHEW PRIOR THE DISMANTLED SHIP by WALT WHITMAN MY ANGUISH by INNOKENTI FYODOROVICH ANNENSKY |