 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
HORSES ABOARD
Horses in horsecloths stand in a rowOn board the huge ship that at last lets go:
Whither are they sailing? They do not know,
Nor what for, nor how.—
They are horses of war,
And are going to where there is fighting afar;
But they gaze through their eye-holes unwitting they are,
And that in some wilderness, gaunt and ghast,
Their bones will bleach ere a year has passed,
And the item be as “war-waste” classed.—
And when the band booms, and the folk say “Good-bye!”
And the shore slides astern, they appear wrenched awry
From the scheme Nature planned for them,—wondering why.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |