The Horses

What was our share in the sinning,
That we must share in the doom?
Sweet was our life's begining
In the spicy meadow-bloom,
With children's hands hands to pet us
And kindly tones to call.
To-day the red spurs fret us
Against the bayonet wall.

What have we done, our masters,
That you sold us into Hell?
Our terrors and disasters
Have fillled your pockets well.
You feast on our starvation;
Yourlaughter is our groan,
Have horses then no nation,
No country of their own?

What are we, we your horses,
So loyal where we serve,
Fashioned of noble forces
All sensitive with nerve?
Torn, agonized, we wallow
On the blood-bemired sod;
And still the shiploads follow.
Have horses then no God?

Katharine Lee Bates

Edwin O. Grover. ANimal Lovers Knapsack Thomas Y. Crowell Company New York, 1929

Return to Project Mkono Homepage

[Valid as HTML 4.0] [Viewable with Any Browser] [Lynx Friendly]