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A horse stood amid the fog,
His valiant head raised in grandeur,
His eyes were pools of soft bog,
His neck curved in triumph.
He flicked his flaxen tail,
And gave a wondrous neigh,
The mist curled about him,
And he shook the heavy fray.
He rose upon the air,
And met with the crescent moon.
Giving a eerie grunt,
It sounded like a croon.
He landed, and staring toward the sky
He shook his shining mane,
And suddenly, as with the wind,
He disappeared into the rain.
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