I realized this week that I have not had a blog of a thatched animal for quite some time now, so this week I thought I would put that right! All work and no play and all that!
These pictures of a running horse were taken at a cottage close to Great Bardfield, so tucked away, if you didn’t know where it was you would have extreme difficulty finding it. The customer has recently had the thatch ridge redone and added that horse as they keep horses themselves, three in fact. I was there to sweep the flue to their Yeoman Devon Mk1 stove that was fitted by the previous occupants over 30 years ago now. You wouldn’t believe this as the stove has been so well looked after it still looks almost new. Claire was quite taken with the thatched horse though, being a horsey person herself and she spent some time fussing the customers three horses in their stable.
Looking on the web there are a huge number of poems written about horses; I should think that there are more poems written about horses than any other creature? He are just a few that caught my eye:
Horse by James McDonald
To honor a friend,
That many have known,
To capture the words,
That action has shown.
Like a horse set to flight,
A pen dashes around,
And words fill the page,
like rocks on the ground.
With grace in their heart,
May the world hear them say,
That the horse is our friend,
Because there’s no other way.
And to you at the edge,
Of your poetic filled voice,
Charge in like a horse,
As if there was never a choice.
The Stallion by Walt Whitman
A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive
to my caresses.
Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut,
His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we
race around and return.
The Horse by William Shakespear
I will not change my horse with any that treads…
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk,
He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches
“The barest horn of his hoof is more musical than
the pipe of Hermes…
He’s of the color of the nutmeg and of the heat of
He is pure air and fire, and the dull elements
Of earth and water never appear in him,
But only in patient stillness his rider mounts him…
It is the prince of palfreys. His neigh is like
The bidding of a monarch, and his countenance
The Horses of the Sea by Christina Rossetti
The horses of the sea
Rear a foaming crest,
But the horses of the land
Serve us the best.
The horses of the land
Munch corn and clover,
While the foaming sea-horses
Toss and turn over.
Say this of Horses by Minnie Hite Moody
Across the ages they come thundering
On faithful hoofs, the horses man disowns.
Their velvet eyes are wide with wondering;
They whinny down the wind in silver tones
Vibrant with all the bulges of old wars;
Their nostrils quiver with the summer scent
Of grasses in deep fields lit by pale stars
Hung in a wide and silent firmament,
And in their hearts they keep the dreams of earth
Their patient plodding furrowed to the sun
Unnumbered springs before the engine’s birth
Doomed them to sadness and oblivion.
Across the swift new day I watch them go,
Driven by wheel and gear and dynamo.
Say this of horses: engines leave behind
No glorious legacy of waving manes
And wild, proud hearts, and heels before the wind,
No heritage of ancient Arab strains
Blazes within a cylinder’s cold spark;
An engine labors with a sullen force,
Hoarding no dreams of acres sweet and dark:
No love for man has ever surged through wire
Along the farthest slopes I hear the rumble
Of these last hoofs-tomorrow they will be still;
Then shall the strength of countless horses crumble
The staunchest rock and level the highest hill;
A man who made machines to gain an hour
Shall lose himself before their ruthless power.