246
A SHEAF GLEANED
Sonnet.—OBEDIENCE.
In thy strong teeth bite hard thy bit of steel,
Curve on thy chest thy nostrils belching fire,
Hold in thy strength, and check thy generous ire,
War-horse, impatient in thy battle-zeal.
'Mid the fierce onset where the standards reel,
And bright swords flash, and cannons thunder dire,
Fain wouldst thou fly, and there with joy expire,
Proud in thy blood thy loyalty to seal.
But where's the signal? Wait. Thy foam devour,
Smoothen thy mane, and dull thine eyes' red flush,
With pricked-up ears attent until the hour,
True to thy rider's will. So when it rings,
That glorious hour, thou shalt have leave to rush
Through space entire, not on thy feet but wings.
