He stood there, chained to wall and rack
With trebled steel. 'For God's own sake,
The scared groom croaked to me, 'Stand back!
You never know the chains might break '
Within the dim light of the stall
I saw the wild eyes red with hate,
And marked the deep-set halter-gall
That told the ceaseless strife with fate.
He heard a strange foot on the floor,
A strange voice in the shadows sound.
And strained his fetters with a roar
That shook the shed from roof to ground.
The foam upon his lips was white.
His bitten breast was flecked with cream.
He screamed a soul in piteous plight
Hate, fear, and anguish in the scream.
'Why keep him tortured, chained and mad,
And dungeoned from the daylight's gold?'
'His blood's the best we ever had,
And all his stock are sound and bold.'
Maybe. I crossed the sunlit lanes,
And only saw, with eyes a-brim.
The torn brown breast, the trebled chains,
The broken heart; and wept for him.
