A full white rose at his gold-laced button:
Many were laughing, but none looked gayer.
Such a beast was his jet black hunter,
Silver-spotted with foam and froth,
Brawny in flank and fiery-blooded,
Stung by the spur to a curbless wrath!
Gaily blowing his horn, he scrambled
Over the stone wall four feet two;
See saw over the old park railing,
Shaking the thistle-head rich with dew.