AH tell me why you turn and fly, My little Thracian filly shy? Why turn askance That cruel glance, And think that such a dunce am I? O I am blest with ample wit To fix the bridle and the bit, And make thee bend Each turning-end In harness all the course of it. But now 'tis yet the meadow free And frisking it with merry glee; The master yet Has not been met To mount the car and manage thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AULD LANG SYNE by ROBERT BURNS AN OLD CASTLE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE TROUBADOUR by HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS AUTUMN SUNSET ON THE SIERRA NEVADAS by DOROTHY BOARDMAN EVENING SOLACE by CHARLOTTE BRONTE TO SAINT MARGARET by HENRY CONSTABLE |