45 



Oh ! I know it, you may laugh, 

 I can stand a bit of chaff. 



When a duffer takes the ribbons I can tell ; 

 For the artist I can move 

 In a straight and level groove, 



Ever running, running speedily and well. 



What is driving but an art 

 Where man takes the greater part. 



In the blending of two natures into one ; 

 Leather reins and bits of steel 

 Are but links with which we feel 



All the senses of the cattle as they run. 



For I take it that of course, 

 Twixt the coachman and the horse 



Runs a quick communication to and fro ; 

 Though the ear it does not reach, 

 They are welded each to each, 



By a silent conversation as they go. 



So the blood horse takes a mind 

 That is clever, cute and kind, 



And an intellect to keep him in his place ; 

 One so sensitive will feel 

 The least touch of whip or steel ; 



Touch him lightly, there is mettle in his race. 



