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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=480846" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bull</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">See an old unhappy bull, <br>Sick in soul and body both, <br>Slouching in the undergrowth <br>Of the forest beautiful, <br>Banished from the herd he led, <br>Bulls and cows a thousand head. <br>Cranes and gaudy parrots go <br>Up and down the burning sky; <br>Tree-top cats purr drowsily <br>In the dim-day green below; <br>And troops of monkeys, nutting, some, <br>All disputing, go and come; <br>And things abominable sit <br>Picking offal buck or swine, <br>On the mess and over it <br>Burnished flies and beetles shine, <br>And spiders big as bladders lie <br>Under hemlocks ten foot high; <br>And a dotted serpent curled <br>Round and round and round a tree, <br>Yellowing its greenery, <br>Keeps a watch on all the world, <br>All the world and this old bull <br>In the forest beautiful. <br>Bravely by his fall he came: <br>One he led, a bull of blood <br>Newly come to lustihood, <br>Fought and put his prince to shame, <br>Snuffed and pawed the prostrate head <br>Tameless even while it bled. <br>There they left him, every one, <br>Left him there without a lick, <br>Left him for the birds to pick, <br>Left him there for carrion, <br>Vilely from their bosom cast <br>Wisdom, worth and love at last. <br>When the lion left his lair <br>And roared his beauty through the hills, <br>And the vultures pecked their quills <br>And flew into the middle air, <br>Then this prince no more to reign <br>Came to life and lived again. <br>He snuffed the herd in far retreat, <br>He saw the blood upon the ground, <br>And snuffed the burning airs around <br>Still with beevish odours sweet, <br>While the blood ran down his head <br>And his mouth ran slaver red. <br>Pity him, this fallen chief, <br>All his spendour, all his strength, <br>All his body's breadth and length <br>Dwindled down with shame and grief, <br>Half the bull he was before, <br>Bones and leather, nothing more. <br>See him standing dewlap-deep <br>In the rushes at the lake, <br>Surly, stupid, half asleep, <br>Waiting for his heart to break <br>And the birds to join the flies <br>Feasting at his bloodshot eyes, - <br>Standing with his head hung down <br>In a stupor dreaming things: <br>Green savannas, jungles brown, <br>Battlefields and bellowings, <br>Bulls undone and lions dead <br>And vultures flapping overhead. <br>Dreaming things: of days he spent <br>With his mother gaunt and lean <br>In the valley warm and green, <br>Full of baby wonderment, <br>Blinking out of silly eyes <br>At a hundred mysteries; <br>Dreaming over once again <br>How he wandered with a throng <br>Of bulls and cows a thousand strong, <br>Wandered on from plain to plain, <br>Up the hill and down the dale, <br>Always at his mother's tail; <br>How he lagged behind the herd, <br>Lagged and tottered, weak of limb, <br>And she turned and ran to him <br>Blaring at the loathly bird <br>Stationed always in the skies, <br>Waiting for the flesh that dies. <br>Dreaming maybe of a day <br>When her drained and drying paps <br>Turned him to the sweets and saps, <br>Richer fountains by the way, <br>And she left the bull she bore <br>And he looked on her no more; <br>And his little frame grew stout, <br>And his little legs grew strong, <br>And the way was not so long; <br>And his little horns came out, <br>And he played at butting trees <br>And boulder-stones and tortoises, <br>Joined a game of knobby skulls <br>With the youngsters of his year, <br>All the other little bulls, <br>Learning both to bruise and bear, <br>Learning how to stand a shock <br>Like a little bull of rock. <br>Dreaming of a day less dim, <br>Dreaming of a time less far, <br>When the faint but certain star <br>Of destiny burned clear for him, <br>And a fierce and wild unrest <br>Broke the quiet of his breast, <br>And the gristles of his youth <br>Hardened in his comely pow, <br>And he came to fighting growth, <br>Beat his bull and won his cow, <br>And flew his tail and trampled off <br>Past the tallest, vain enough, <br>And curved about in spendour full <br>And curved again and snuffed the airs <br>As who should say Come out who dares! <br>And all beheld a bull, a Bull, <br>And knew that here was surely one <br>That backed for no bull, fearing none. <br>And the leader of the herd <br>Looked and saw, and beat the ground, <br>And shook the forest with his sound, <br>Bellowed at the loathly bird <br>Stationed always in the skies, <br>Wating for the flesh that dies. <br>Dreaming, this old bull forlorn, <br>Surely dreaming of the hour <br>When he came to sultan power, <br>And they owned him master-horn, <br>Chiefest bull of all among <br>Bulls and cows a thousand strong. <br>And in all the tramping herd <br>Not a bull that barred his way, <br>Not a cow that said him nay, <br>Not a bull or cow that erred <br>In the furnace of his look <br>Dared a second, worse rebuke; <br>Not in all the forest wide, <br>Jungle, thicket, pasture, fen, <br>Not another dared him then, <br>Dared him and again defied; <br>Not a sovereign buck or boar <br>Came a second time for more. <br>Not a serpent that survived <br>Once the terrors of his hoof <br>Risked a second time reproof, <br>Came a second time and lived, <br>Not serpent in its skin <br>Came again for discipline; <br>Not a leopard brght as flame, <br>Flashing fingerhooks of steel, <br>That a wooden tree might feel, <br>Met his fury once and came <br>For second reprimand, <br>Not a leopard in the land. <br>Not a lion of them all, <br>Not a lion of the hills, <br>Hero of a thousand kills, <br>Dared a second fight and fall, <br>Dared that ram terrific twice, <br>Paid a second time the price. . . . <br>Pity him, this dupe of dream, <br>Leader of the heard again <br>Only in his daft old brain, <br>Once again the bull supreme <br>And bull enough to bear the part <br>Only in his tameless heart. <br>Pity him that he must wake; <br>Even now the swarm of flies <br>Blackening his bloodshot eyes <br>Bursts and blusters round the lake, <br>Scattered from the feast half-fed, <br>By great shadows overhead. <br>And the dreamer turns away <br>From his visionary herds <br>And his splendid yesterday, <br>Turns to meet the loathly birds <br>Flocking round him from the skies, <br>Waiting for the flesh that dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ralph+Hodgson">Ralph Hodgson</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=480846" data-title="The Bull de Ralph Hodgson" data-description="See an old unhappy bull, 
Sick in soul and body both, 
Slouching in the undergrowth 
Of the forest beautiful, 
Banished from the herd he led, 
Bulls and cows a thousand head. 
Cranes and gaudy parrots go 
Up and down the burning sky; 
Tree-top cat..."></div>
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