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Poetry Month Blog Hop

I’m sick of reading about this disease and of worrying about my work and of missing my horse, so let’s do a blog hop.

April is National Poetry Month. Post a poem about a horse (or a barn, or a dog, or just one that brings you joy).

Here’s my perpetual favorite.

The Runaway

by Robert Frost
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,
We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’
A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,
The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head
And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.
We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,
And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey,
Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.
‘I think the little fellow’s afraid of the snow.
He isn’t winter-broken. It isn’t play
With the little fellow at all. He’s running away.
I doubt if even his mother could tell him, “Sakes,
It’s only weather.” He’d think she didn’t know!
Where is his mother? He can’t be out alone.’
And now he comes again with a clatter of stone
And mounts the wall again with whited eyes
And all his tail that isn’t hair up straight.
He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies.
‘Whoever it is that leaves him out so late,
When other creatures have gone to stall and bin,
Ought to be told to come and take him in.’

3 thoughts on “Poetry Month Blog Hop

  1. The Flyaway Horse | Eugene Field

    OH, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse–
    Perhaps you have seen him before;
    Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
    Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
    For it’s only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
    That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
    And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
    Is up on his heels and away!
    The moon in the sky,
    As he gallopeth by,
    Cries: “Oh! What a marvelous sight!”
    And the Stars in dismay
    Hide their faces away
    In the lap of old Grandmother Night.

    It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse
    Speedeth ever and ever away–
    Over meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,
    Over streamlets that sing at their play;
    And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,
    While the ships they go sailing below,
    And he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast
    Adjudge him some portent of woe.
    “What ho, there!” they cry,
    As he flourishes by
    With a whisk of his beautiful tail;
    And the fish in the sea
    Are as scared as can be,
    From the nautilus up to the whale!

    And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands
    You little folk dream of at night–
    Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,
    And corn-fields with popcorn are white;
    And the beasts in the wood are ever so good
    To children who visit them there–
    What glory astride of a lion to ride,
    Or to wrestle around with a bear!
    The monkeys, they say:
    “Come on, let us play,”
    And they frisk in the coconut-trees:
    While the parrots, that cling
    To the peanut-vines sing
    Or converse with comparative ease!

    Off! scamper to bed — you shall ride him to-night!
    For, as soon as you’ve fallen asleep,
    With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away
    Over forest and hillside and deep!
    But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear
    In those beautiful lands over there,
    Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course
    With the wee one consigned to his care.
    Then grandma will cry
    In amazement: “Oh, my!”
    And she’ll think it could never be so.
    And only we two
    Shall know it is true–
    You and I, little precious! shall know!

    Like

  2. There is a poem, of which I can not remember the title nor the author, and only bits and pieces but it generally was a little girl that is playing at being a horse; sometimes she is the rider other times she is the horse…I think there is a switch she has to make her horse jump, and she gets a green mouth from pulling grass which she tells her mother that the horse ate…I read it way back in the 1960s…would love it if some one comes across it and posts…

    Like

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