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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353983" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Arab's Farewell To His Horse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">MY beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by <br>With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye; <br>Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy winged speed- <br>I may not mount on thee again-thou'rt sold, my Arab steed! <br>Fret not with that impatient hoof-snuff not the breezy wind- <br>The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind; <br>The stranger hath thy bridle rein-thy master hath his gold- <br>Fleet-limbed and beautiful! farewell! -thou'rt sold, my steed-thou'rt sold! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell! those free untired limbs, full many a mile must roam, <br>To reach the chill and wintry sky, which clouds the stranger's home; <br>Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bed prepare; <br>The silky mane I braided once, must be another's care! <br>The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee <br>Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be: <br>Evening shall darken on the earth; and o'er the sandy plain <br>Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, thou must go! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky, <br>Thy master's home-from all of these, my exiled one must fly. <br>Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet, <br>And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet. <br>Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright <br>Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed, <br>Then must I starting wake, to feel-thou'rt sold, my Arab steed! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide, <br>Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side: <br>And the rich blood, that is in thee swells, in thy indignant pain, <br>Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each started vein. <br>Will they ill-use thee? If I thought-but no, it cannot be- <br>Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed; so gentle, yet so free. <br>And yet, if haply when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should yearn- <br>Can the hand which casts thee from it now, command thee to return? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Return! -alas! my Arab steed! what shall thy master do, <br>When thou who wert his all of joy, hast vanished from his view? <br>When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gath'ring tears <br>Thy bright form, for a moment, like the false mirâge appears. <br>Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary foot alone, <br>Where with fleet step, and joyous bound, thou oft hast borne me on; <br>And, sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think, <br>'It was here he bowed his glossy neck, when last I saw him drink! ' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When last I saw thee drink! -away! the fevered dream is o'er- <br>I could not live a day, and know, that we should meet no more! <br>They tempted me, my beautiful! for hunger's power is strong- <br>They tempted me, my beautiful! but I have loved too long. <br>Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wert sold? <br>'Tis false-'tis false, my Arab steed! I fling them back their gold! <br>Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains; <br>Away! who overtakes us now, shall claim thee for his pains!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353983" data-title="The Arab's Farewell To His Horse de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="MY beautiful! my beautiful! that standest meekly by 
With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye; 
Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy winged speed- 
I may not mount on thee again-thou'rt sold, my Arab steed! 
Fret no..."></div>
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