46 '' (gi-amtt/^ 



Your well-shap'd head, just a trifle long, 

 And your "gaze," so frank and true, 



And that wise, wide brow, and that eye, no song 

 And no words can do justice to. 



The dappled skin, and the neat white mane. 



And jauntily carried tail, 

 A flag which has led men now and again 



To miscalculate brook and rail. 



To go where that pony goes is not. 



They've found when the country's strong. 



So easy a task as they thought they'd got, 

 And they needs must bustle along. 



•Comrades for years you've seen come and go. 



As my yearly sale came round ; 

 But iov you there's a summer's run, you know, 



When the horn shall no longer sound. 



Yon first I ride in September's leaf, 



And you last in April's dust ; 

 Few horses have shown me so little ''grief," 



And in none have I put more trust. 



Than you no better I e'er shall guide. 



And never expect the hick 

 During life's short span to again bestride 



So condensed a mass of f.liick. 



