Why do I love horses, well, why do you breathe?

Your wounded comforters have limited to pain,

But leave your pitying influence to that shield

Propitiate by me, it curious and proud

Aimed by the strong eagle, every wanderer

Into a fearless race to close those pilgrim soul.

Strange that a spirit pause at an eternal prayer

In unisons of music to her fitting sphere.

Each kindling moment to the stroke of her arm,

Makes her fair cheek enkindling to a sunbeam,

Caressing the living like her like her Maker,

Gently to render, back the blessed comforter,

Bringing the brightness that thy good Institution

Lined through the heavenward by its radiance gain,

Slow kneeling by the Throne of tranquil tenderness,

Filled with the daily sympathy of earth and air,

Content with silent blessings from each precept birth,

Gently to render, back the blessed comforter,

Of her calm presence, by the fervid charity,

Offering the immortal essence of great love,

Light of the summer! In this consecrated place,

Wherein the glory of the glory of our prime

Until we saw a brilliant lamp in cloudless days,

Brightly glided away in a channels of gold.

Another treasured picture held a little while,—

Arose a little resting, like an lofty tree.

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