DEATH OF AN OLD CARRIAGE HORSE
by: George Moses Horton
(c.1797-c.1883)
- WAS a harness
horse,
- Constrained to travel weak or strong,
- With orders from oppressing force,
- Push along, push along.
-
- I had no space of rest,
- And took at forks the roughest prong,
- Still by the cruel driver pressed,
- Push along, push along.
-
- Vain strove the idle bird,
- To charm me with her artless song,
- But pleasure lingered from the word,
- Push along, push along.
-
- The order of the day
- Was push, the peal of every tongue,
- The only word was all the way,
- Push along, push along.
-
- Thus to my journey's end,
- Had I to travel right or wrong,
- 'Till death my sweet and favored friend,
- Bade me from life to push along.
"Death of an Old Carriage Horse"
is reprinted from Naked Genius. Ed. Will. H. S. Banks.
Raleigh: William B. Smith, 1865. |
MORE POEMS BY GEORGE MOSES HORTON |
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