I went into the barn -- the west was red; The last beams shone into your vacant stall. No more your gallant, high-flung silver head Is lifted eagerly to hear my call, For honest, kindly Silver King is dead. They say you had no soul, my Silver King. They cannot prove it. In some future scene, When I, too, from this earth have taken wing, I'll look for you amid those 'pastures green'. Oh, will I find again the friend I seek, And feel your velvet nose against my cheek? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914 by ALICE MEYNELL THE PERSIANS (PERSAE): THE BATTLE OF SALAMIS by AESCHYLUS THE MAPLE TREE OVER THE WAY by LEVI BISHOP THE GATES OF PARADISE; FOR CHILDREN by WILLIAM BLAKE |