Horses abroad

Horses in horsecloths stand in a row

On board the huge ship that at last lets go.

Whither are they sailing? They do not know,

Nor what for, nor how. --

They are horses of war,

And are going to where there is fighting afar;

But they gaze through their eyeholes unwitting they are,

And that in some wilderness, gaunt and ghast,

Their bones will bleach ere a year has passed,

And the item be as "war-waste" classed. --

And when the band booms, and the folk say "Goodbye!"

And the shore slides astern, they appear wrenched awry

From the scheme Nature planned for them, -- wondering why.