The Ox
I LOVE thee, holy ox: a soothing sense
Of power and peace thou lodgest in my heart.
How solemn, like a monument, thou art,
Watching the pastures fertile and immense!
Or 'neath the yoke with calmness how intense
Dost thou to man's quick toil thine aid impart!
He shouts and goads thee: patient of the smart,
Thine eyes, slow turning, claim more reverence.
From thy broad nostrils, black and moist, doth rise
Thy breath in fragrant incense: like a psalm
Swells on the air thy lowing's joyful strain.
Austerely sweet are thy grave emerald eyes.
And in their depths is mirrored, wide and calm,
All the divine green silence of the plain.
Of power and peace thou lodgest in my heart.
How solemn, like a monument, thou art,
Watching the pastures fertile and immense!
Or 'neath the yoke with calmness how intense
Dost thou to man's quick toil thine aid impart!
He shouts and goads thee: patient of the smart,
Thine eyes, slow turning, claim more reverence.
From thy broad nostrils, black and moist, doth rise
Thy breath in fragrant incense: like a psalm
Swells on the air thy lowing's joyful strain.
Austerely sweet are thy grave emerald eyes.
And in their depths is mirrored, wide and calm,
All the divine green silence of the plain.
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