THE patient horses of the plough, Dark-coloured like the new-turned soil, Their meek, strong necks submissive bow From dawn till dusk, at irksome toil, Not heeding, though below they hear How the sea-horses plunge and rear. The magic horses of the sea No voice of any master mind, But fare all day untrammelled, free, And none calls to them from behind; Nor mark they moving on the cliff The land-horses at labour stiff. The sods of earth in silence yield As the sharp-bladed ploughshare graves Long furrows in the fallow field, But the sea's still-resentful waves— When the sea-horses through them pass— Sunder with sound of shivered glass! The soil's dim bloom is flecked with black By ebon hordes of rooks and choughs That follow in the ploughshare's track; But from the sea's far-foamiug troughs, Whiter than flakes of milky curds, Flash the sea-horses' sacred birds. The plough-horses with smoking sides Turn home at twilight to their stall; The tameless horses of the tides Know not of shelter at nightfall, For, never wearied, never sleep The deathless horses of the deep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE CHILD by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BIRDS OF VIETNAM by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WORD OF AN ENGINEER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE GREAT RACE PASSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM |