Ludgate Hill
C. Willeby
Up Ludgate Hill the horses
Toil slowly in the rain,
They pull the creaking waggon,
They drag the heavy wain.
With eyes of patient wonder
Their weary way they go,
While musing on some Heaven
That only horses know.
They dream within the turmoil
That some day work will cease,
The city is for striving,
The country is for peace.