Nature
Slow, horses, slow
From The Poets and the Poetry of the Century, ed. Alfred H. Miles
Slow, horses, slow,
As through the wood we go —
We would count the stars in heaven,
Hear the grasses grow.
Watch the cloudlets few
Dappling the deep blue,
In our open palms outspread,
Catch the blessed dew.
Slow, horses, slow,
As through the wood we go —
We would see fair Dian rise,
With her huntress bow.
We would hear the breeze
Ruffling the dim trees —
Hear its sweet love-ditty set
To endless harmonies.
Slow, horses, slow,
As through the wood we go
All the beauty of the night,
We would learn and know.
Cite this poem
MLA
Westwood, Thomas. “Slow, horses, slow.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/westwood/5/.
Chicago
Westwood, Thomas. “Slow, horses, slow.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/westwood/5/.
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