The White Horse

The White Horse written by William Henry Davies

From "A Poet's Calendar", 1927

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What do I stare at - not the colt
That frisks in yon green field; so strong
That he can leap about and run,
Yet is too weak to stand up straight
When his mother licks him with her tongue.

No, no, my eyes go far beyond,
Across that field to yon far Hill,
Where one white horse stands there alone;
And nothing else is white to see,
Outside a house all dark and still.

'Death, are you in that house?' think I -
'Is that horse there on your account?
Can I expect a shadow soon,
Seen in that horse's ghostly ribs -
When you come up behind, to mount?'

This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.