Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882). Complete Poetical Works. 1893.
The Seaside and the FiresideBy the Fireside. Pegasus in Pound
O
Without haste and without heed,
In the golden prime of morning,
Strayed the poet’s wingèd steed.
Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves,
And, like living coals, the apples
Burned among the withering leaves.
From its belfry gaunt and grim;
’T was the daily call to labor,
Not a triumph meant for him.
In its gleaming vapor veiled;
Not the less he breathed the odors
That the dying leaves exhaled.
By the school-boys he was found;
And the wise men, in their wisdom,
Put him straightway into pound.
Ringing loud his brazen bell,
Wandered down the street proclaiming
There was an estray to sell.
Rich and poor, and young and old,
Came in haste to see this wondrous
Wingèd steed, with mane of gold.
Fell, with vapors cold and dim;
But it brought no food nor shelter,
Brought no straw nor stall, for him.
Looked he through the wooden bars,
Saw the moon rise o’er the landscape,
Saw the tranquil, patient stars;
Sounded from its dark abode,
And, from out a neighboring farm-yard,
Loud the cock Alectryon crowed.
Breaking from his iron chain,
And unfolding far his pinions,
To those stars he soared again.
Woke to all its toil and care,
Lo! the strange steed had departed.
And they knew not when nor where.
Where his struggling hoofs had trod,
Pure and bright, a fountain flowing
From the hoof-marks in the sod.
Gladdens the whole region round,
Strengthening all who drink its waters,
While it soothes them with its sound.