See where he rides, all hot and fast – High on his horse that kicks Lightning and thunder out of wind, While fools applaud his tricks. A year or two, and there he lies, A bleeding thing, and thrown; Down in the dust he dribbles blood, Forgotten and unknown. Whoa! Steady now, my little horse, A gentle canter past: Though faintly cheered, there's nothing gained By riding wild and fast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MANOKWARI, IRIAN JAYA; IN MEMORIAM, ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE by KAREN SWENSON HOLY THURSDAY, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 35 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 7. AFTER THE FAIR by THOMAS HARDY ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 6. TO WILLIAM HALL, ESQ., WITH THE WORKS OF CHAULIEU by MARK AKENSIDE |