ONCE into a quiet village, | |
| Without haste and without heed, | |
| In the golden prime of morning, | |
| Strayed the poet’s wingèd steed. | |
| |
| It was Autumn, and incessant | 5 |
| Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, | |
| And, like living coals, the apples | |
| Burned among the withering leaves. | |
| |
| Loud the clamorous bell was ringing | |
| From its belfry gaunt and grim; | 10 |
| ’T was the daily call to labor, | |
| Not a triumph meant for him. | |
| |
| Not the less he saw the landscape, | |
| In its gleaming vapor veiled; | |
| Not the less he breathed the odors | 15 |
| That the dying leaves exhaled. | |
| |
| Thus, upon the village common, | |
| By the school-boys he was found; | |
| And the wise men, in their wisdom, | |
| Put him straightway into pound. | 20 |
| |
| Then the sombre village crier, | |
| Ringing loud his brazen bell, | |
| Wandered down the street proclaiming | |
| There was an estray to sell. | |
| |
| And the curious country people, | 25 |
| Rich and poor, and young and old, | |
| Came in haste to see this wondrous | |
| Wingèd steed, with mane of gold. | |
| |
| Thus the day passed, and the evening | |
| Fell, with vapors cold and dim; | 30 |
| But it brought no food nor shelter, | |
| Brought no straw nor stall, for him. | |
| |
| Patiently, and still expectant, | |
| Looked he through the wooden bars, | |
| Saw the moon rise o’er the landscape, | 35 |
| Saw the tranquil, patient stars; | |
| |
| Till at length the bell at midnight | |
| Sounded from its dark abode, | |
| And, from out a neighboring farm-yard, | |
| Loud the cock Alectryon crowed. | 40 |
| |
| Then, with nostrils wide distended, | |
| Breaking from his iron chain, | |
| And unfolding far his pinions, | |
| To those stars he soared again. | |
| |
| On the morrow, when the village | 45 |
| Woke to all its toil and care, | |
| Lo! the strange steed had departed. | |
| And they knew not when nor where. | |
| |
| But they found, upon the greensward | |
| Where his struggling hoofs had trod, | 50 |
| Pure and bright, a fountain flowing | |
| From the hoof-marks in the sod. | |
| |
| From that hour, the fount unfailing | |
| Gladdens the whole region round, | |
| Strengthening all who drink its waters, | 55 |
| While it soothes them with its sound. | |
| |
