Thursday, April 1, 2010

A poem

I see them running ‘ore the green,

Oh, what beauty! Oh, what sheen!
Heads held high through their flight.
Some are white, and some gold, and others black as night.
Beauty past compare,
With various colors of hair.
What are these marvels of the sun?
Who’s names are carved in marble;
In Greece, Rome and many a home?
It is the Horse of course!

I wrote this a looooooong time ago. I don't think I'll be a poet. :)

1 comment:

  1. Poets are ambiguous; sure you could be one. :)