The goat that rubbed my knees last night And left his ancient smell Maddened my heart that I was what A horned goat could tell. For if his favour singled me, Out of the passing crowd, It's plain I'm not too well disguised, Nor yet too worldly proud. Most difficult it is to-day Beneath a coat and vest; I feared my old identity Might fade with all the rest. But I'll go back to hill and sky And hold a colloquy; I need those ancient presences Whose tumult still is - me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT; GEORGE III AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ROBERT SOUTHEY A CHRISTMAS CAROL by GEORGE WITHER THE GLORY OF ALL ENGLAND by EDWARD WILLIAM BOK THE ADVANCE GUARD by BERTON BRALEY MILLICENT by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES UNCLE SIMON AND UNCLE JIM by CHARLES FARRAR BROWNE |