Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/154

148 THE HORSE.

dost thou neigh, О spirited steed,

Why thy neck so low,

Why thy mane unshaken

Why thy bit not gnawed?

Do I then not fondle thee?

Thy grain to eat art thou not free?

Is not thy harness ornamented,

Is not thy rein of silk,

Is not thy shoe of silver,

Thy stirrup not of gold?

The steed in sorrow answer gives:

Hence am I quiet

Because the distant tramp I hear,

The trumpet's blow and the arrow's whizz;

And hence I neigh, since in the field

No longer feed I shall,

Nor in beauty live and fondling,

Neither shine with harness bright.