There's Naught, No Doubt, So Much The

With Flowing Tail And Flying Mane, Wide Nostrils Never Stretched By Pain, Mouth Bloodless To Bit Or Rein, And Feet That Iron Never Shod, And Flanks Unscar'd By Spur Or Rod, A Thousand Horses - The Wild - The Free - Like Waves That Follow O'er The Sea, Came Thickly Thundering On.

And Those Who Saw, It Did Surprise, Such Drops Could Fall From Human Eyes.

A Timid Mind Is Apt To Mistake Every Scratch For A Mortal Wound.

Now What I Love In Women Is, They Won't Or Can't Do Otherwise Than Lie, But Do It. So Well, The Very Truth Seems Falsehood To It.

Old Man! 'tis Not Difficult To Die.