Page:Poems Tynan.djvu/174

With a low whinnying neigh,
 He ran full wild and fast,
And hid his forehead gray
 Against Columba's breast,
And wept against his neck;
 Till any heart of stone
Were very like to ache,
 Hearing the creature moan.

"O little horse, so kind,"
 The dear Columba said;
"How hast thou well divined
 I should so soon be dead?
Thou wouldst not keep me, thou,
 From glory and from grace,
And from Queen Mary's brow,
 And from the Lord God's face!"

But while the horse sobbed on,
 Columba stroked his mane.
O any heart of stone
 Had ached to see that pain!
And still as home they went,
 The horse came following yet;
His head deject and bent,
 His eyes still strained and wet.

The brethren they ran out.
 Columba spoke them plain,
His tender arm about
 His patient friend's gray mane.

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