Horses at Dusk

How huge are horses in the dusk.  They loom

Tremendous where they stand against the sky,

Etched like great statues, clothed in majesty,

As if their kingdom is restored; and groom

And master are but shades of fancied doom,

And night gives back to them lost dignity.

Yet when they hear a footfall passing by

They come and gaze, a pitying pose assume.

 

When gathering darkness ushers out the day

And only such as we walk on the road

The world is wrapped in stillness, cool and sweet.

Then from some grazing beast comes a loud neigh

Primeval, warning us that rein and load

Have not subdued his pride, nor brought defeat.