Horses

Horses written by Walter de la Mare

Stuff and Nonsense (1927)

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I never see a coach go by
Without remembering that I
Shall someday take a ride in one
With horses not allowed to run.
They'll step on leisurely to where
A hole gapes in the open air,
Then turn and look, to see if they
may now enjoy a munch of hay,
Or any other kind of meal.

It's odd how little horses feel.
Half their delight on earth one knows is
To have us humans pat their noses.
And when at last we go our way,
They don't so much as breathe a Nay;
But if permitted, on will pass,
To graze upon our funeral grass.

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