.png "The Old Horse Dobbin")
The Old Horse Dobbin
The Old Horse Dobbin
The Old Horse Dobbin
Out at grass.
Turns his tail,
To the winds that pass.
Stares at the white road,
Winding down.
Through the dwindling fields,
To the distant town.
He hears in the distance,
A snip-snap trot.
Sees his master,
A small dark dot.
Riding away,
On the smart new mare.
That came last month,
From Pulborough Fair.
And Dobbin remembers,
As horses may.
How often he trotted,
That ringing way.
His coat is ragged,
And blown awry.
He drops his head,
And he knows not why.
Something has happened,
Something is gone.
The world is changing,
His work is done.
His old heart aches,
With a heavier load.
He stands and wonders.
And stares at the road.
Alfred Noyes
