EPITAPH ON AN OLD HORSE.
Here lies a faithful steed,
A stanch, uncompromising “silver gray;”
Who ran the race of life with sprightly speed,
Yet never ran—away.
Wild oats he never sowed,
Yet masticated tame ones with much zest:
Cheerful he bore each light allotted load,
As cheerfully took rest.
Bright were his eyes, yet soft,