My saddle hangs on yonder wall, My bridle hangs beside; Ain't used 'em since a year last fall ... I'm gettin' old to ride. The stress of thirty toilsome years At length begins to show— With horseback ridin' interferes An' makes my movements slow. An' so, of late, I've stepped aside, My functions others fill; But though today I seldom ride I keep my saddle still. It's been my homely, silent pard On many a lonely trail An' many a night when "standin' guard" In tempest, rain or hail; An' oftentimes, when miles away From shelt'ring roof and bed I've lain until the dawn of day My saddle 'neath my head. The edges of its skirts are frayed. The linin' badly worn, An strainin' ropes a groove have made Around its stubby horn. It's nothin' much for looks an' style, It's scarred an' scuffed an' old, I've owned it, though, for quite a while— I will not have it sold. So let it hang on yonder wall Untouched, an' used by none, Until I get the final call To say my ridin's done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALLOW DEER AT THE LONELY HOUSE by THOMAS HARDY THE LADY AND THE SWINE by MOTHER GOOSE OF A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE by EDMUND WALLER ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE THE MODEST WISH by JOHN BARCLAY (1582-1621) |