Beside the dusty road he steps at ease;
His great head bending to the stallion-bar,
Now lifted, now flung downward to his knees,
Tossing the forelock from his forehead star;
Champing the while his heavy bit in pride
And flecking foam upon his flank and side.
Save for his roller striped in white and blue
He bears no harness on his mighty back;
For all the splendour of his bone and thew
He travels burdenless along the track,
Yet shall he give a hundred hefty sons
The strength to carry what his kingship shuns.
The pheasants rustling on the roadside bank.
The pigeons swinging out in sudden chase,
Break not his broad shoes' rhythmic clank
Nor set him swerving from his measured pace.
He knows the road and all its hidden fears,
His the staid calm that comes with conquering years.
He snatches at the clover as he goes,
Clinking the bit-chain as he gathers toll ;
He sniffs the speedwell, through wide nostrils blows,
And but for chain and bar would kneel and roll.
His eyes alone reveal in smouldering fire
Pride held in leash, reined Lust and curbed Desire.
