His tail was a fountain. His nostrils were caves. His mane and his forelock Were musical waves. He neighed… — Eleanor Farjeon
His tail was a fountain.
His nostrils were caves.
His mane and his forelock
Were musical waves.
He neighed like a trumpet.
He cooed like a dove.
He was stronger than terror
And swifter than love.
p. 181Source: Wikiquote · CC BY-SA 4.0
More from this book
He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth. And only the poet
With wings to his brain
Can mount him and ride him
Without any rein,
The stallion of heaven,
The steed of the skies,
The horse of the singer
Who sings as he flies.
p. 181
From the blood of Medusa
Pegasus sprang.
His hoof of heaven
Like melody rang.
p. 181
