The Zebras
From the dark woods that breathe of fallen showers,Harnessed with level rays in golden reins,The zebras draw the dawn across the plainsWading knee-deep among the scarlet flowers.The sunlight, zithering their flanks with fire,Flashes between the shadows as they passBarred with electric tremors through the grassLike wind along the gold strings of a lyre. Into the flushed air snorting rosy plumesThat smoulder round their feet in drifting fumes,With dove-like voices call the distant fillies,While round the herds the stallion wheels his flight,Engine of beauty volted with delight,To roll his mare among the trampled lilies.
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