Phantom Hoofs

Calvin Dill Wilson

Only,
Man will be more lonely.
We cannot love a force
As we loved, and love, the horse.

Yet we dare not too much weep,
Though Bucephalus and Rosinante sleep.
Their pains are past; their rest is deep.

Still, when moon or starlight gleams,
Often we shall hear in dreams,
Passing near our human roofs,
The beat and rhythm of the hoofs.