THE LAST LEAP 



All is over ! fleet career, 



Dash of greyhound slipping thongs, 

 Flight of falcon, bound of deer. 

 Mad hoof-thunder in our rear, 



Cold air rushing up our lungs, 



Din of many tongues. 



Once again, one struggle good, 



One vain effort ; — he must dwell 

 Near the shifted post, that stood 

 Where the splinters of the wood, 

 Lying in the torn tracks, tell 

 How he struck and fell. 



Crest where cold drops beaded cling. 



Small ear drooping, nostril full 

 Glazing to a scarlet ring, 

 Flanks and haunches quivering, 

 Sinews stiffening, void and null. 

 Dumb eyes sorrowful. 



Satin coat that seems to shine 



Duller now, black braided tress 



That a softer hand than mine 

 III 



