 | Musa Verticordia |  |
60
A PONY'S GRAVE
A happy life was yours, my patient Bruce,
To duty faithful, knowing not 'twas due!
For since your heart from every chain was loose,
Save of the corn-bin, grief you never knew.
To duty faithful, knowing not 'twas due!
For since your heart from every chain was loose,
Save of the corn-bin, grief you never knew.
None taught you love of glory or of gain,
None at a wayward step indignant cried;
You gambolled in blithe colthood, shook your mane,
Did sturdy work, enjoyed your corn, and died!
None at a wayward step indignant cried;
You gambolled in blithe colthood, shook your mane,
Did sturdy work, enjoyed your corn, and died!
And now, old bachelor, my mother's pet,
I know your resting-place; a mound of soil
Is heaped above you, which the dew-drops wet
With the sole tears that mourn your life of toil.
I know your resting-place; a mound of soil
Is heaped above you, which the dew-drops wet
With the sole tears that mourn your life of toil.
61
The grass you loved is waving o'er your head;
Beyond the crowded churchyard, all alone
You have your space of earth, more merited
Than many a cell where stands a blazoned stone.
Beyond the crowded churchyard, all alone
You have your space of earth, more merited
Than many a cell where stands a blazoned stone.
It must be sweet to sleep so quietly;
Even the soft-touched rein no more shall grieve;
No more the gentle trouble of a sigh
For the warm stable now your flanks may heave.
Even the soft-touched rein no more shall grieve;
No more the gentle trouble of a sigh
For the warm stable now your flanks may heave.
For now in chilly stall you lowly lie;
The feet of prattling children near you pass
Schoolward; the poising swallows o'er you fly;
And church-bells sound across the meadow-grass.
The feet of prattling children near you pass
Schoolward; the poising swallows o'er you fly;
And church-bells sound across the meadow-grass.
| Musa Verticordia | |