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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511140" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Undertaker's Horse..</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eldest son bestrides him, <br>And the pretty daughter rides him, <br>And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course; <br>And there kindles in my bosom <br>An emotion chill and gruesome <br>As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Neither shies he nor is restive, <br>But a hideously suggestive <br>Trot, professional and placid, he affects; <br>And the cadence of his hoof-beats <br>To my mind this grim reproof beats: -- <br>&quot;Mend your pace, my friend, I'm coming. Who's the next?&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen, <br>I have watched the strongest go -- men <br>Of pith and might and muscle -- at your heels, <br>Down the plantain-bordered highway, <br>(Heaven send it ne'er be my way!) <br>In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Answer, sombre beast and dreary, <br>Where is Brown, the young, the cheery, <br>Smith, the pride of all his friends and half the Force? <br>You were at that last dread dak <br>We must cover at a walk, <br>Bring them back to me, O Undertaker's Horse! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With your mane unhogged and flowing, <br>And your curious way of going, <br>And that businesslike black crimping of your tail, <br>E'en with Beauty on your back, Sir, <br>Pacing as a lady's hack, Sir, <br>What wonder when I meet you I turn pale? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It may be you wait your time, Beast, <br>Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast -- <br>Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop the glass -- <br>Follow after with the others, <br>Where some dusky heathen smothers <br>Us with marigolds in lieu of English grass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or, perchance, in years to follow, <br>I shall watch your plump sides hollow, <br>See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corse -- <br>See old age at last o'erpower you, <br>And the Station Pack devour you, <br>I shall chuckle then, O Undertaker's Horse! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But to insult, jibe, and quest, I've <br>Still the hideously suggestive <br>Trot that hammers out the unrelenting text, <br>And I hear it hard behind me <br>In what place soe'er I find me: -- <br>&quot;'Sure to catch you sooner or later. Who's the next?&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</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=511140" data-title="The Undertaker's Horse.. de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="The eldest son bestrides him, 
And the pretty daughter rides him, 
And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course; 
And there kindles in my bosom 
An emotion chill and gruesome 
As I canter past the Undertaker's Horse. 

Neither shies he nor is rest..."></div>
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