Riderless

A broken bridle trailing, A saddle scratched and scarred – And Brown Bee at the railing That rings the station yard; No stockman sits astride her, But, by those flanks a-foam, Wild Terror was the rider That lashed the good mare home! She snorts across the moonlight Through nostrils red and wide The challenge of the unbacked colt To those who dare not ride; She snorts across the moonlight Through nostrils wide and red The terror of a dumb beast That has looked upon the dead. . . His saddle and his bridle We’ve softly laid aside, We’ll leave the rough gear idle Till he comes back to ride – But when the daylight gathers And when the dawning pales, The brown mare stands and whinnies With her lean head on the rails.