A PORTRAIT.
His small arched neck looks fiery like a steed's,
His eyes are dark and glancing. Antelopes
Are limbed as lightly. Knee-deep in bright tan
He stands—bright tan across his sloping chest,
And o'er his throat, that's graceful as a lady's,
Save this all glossy blackness. Like most brutes
He proves his breeding by his fine positions;
Now, stretched without my window, on the roof
That slopes into the sunshine, light limbs crossed
And muzzle laid athwart them; now, distinct,
Painted against the sky, one slender foot
Lift, and bent inward; now, upon my couch
He lies with crest erect, and tawny paws
Dropt o'er the cushion's edge.
His eyes are dark and glancing. Antelopes
Are limbed as lightly. Knee-deep in bright tan
He stands—bright tan across his sloping chest,
And o'er his throat, that's graceful as a lady's,
Save this all glossy blackness. Like most brutes
He proves his breeding by his fine positions;
Now, stretched without my window, on the roof
That slopes into the sunshine, light limbs crossed
And muzzle laid athwart them; now, distinct,
Painted against the sky, one slender foot
Lift, and bent inward; now, upon my couch
He lies with crest erect, and tawny paws
Dropt o'er the cushion's edge.
