It stands within the barn lot, strangely still, Its graying muzzle drooped, its eyes half shut; Dreaming of furrow and of hostile hill, Of blistering hours, and the lash's cut. Along each side there runs a hard, black band, Where iron traces bit, and nature healed. Mute witness to a master's harsh demand, Where tight hames galled the tortured skin has peeled. Its head grotesque in bigness, and its hair Has dropped in patches from its lifeless skin. Its worn-out hooves are cracked, while here and there Bare scars show plainly where old wounds have been. Ignoble fate for one whose breed of yore Upheld the loving Christ of gentle mien; For on its back, and down its withers hoar The shadow of the cross may yet be seen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JANGLING MEMORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE MARMOZET by HILAIRE BELLOC FOR REMEMBERING HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU by JAMES GALVIN LITTLE BROTHER'S STORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD BOTANICAL GARDENS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CHARLOTTE CORDAY (REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, JULY 17, 1793) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |