My eager wings would need no rest
If I were but a swallow;
I’d scale the highest mountain crest
And sound the deepest hollow.
No forest could my path-way hide;
No ocean plain should be too wide.
I’d find the sources of the Nile,
I’d see the Sandwich Islands,
And Chimborazo’s granite pile,
And Scotland’s rugged Highlands;
I’d skim the sands of Timbuctoo;
Constantinople’s mosques I’d view.
I’d fly among the isles of Greece,
The pride of great Apollo,
And circle round the bay of Nice,
If I were but a swallow,
And view the sunny fields of France,
The vineyards merry with the dance.
I’d see my shadow in the Rhine
Dart swiftly like an arrow,
And catch the breath of eglantine
Along the banks of Yarrow;
I’d roam the world and never tire,
If I could have my heart’s desire!
THE WILD MUSTANG.
By Charles Barnard.
All the horses we see in the streets, or along the country roads, are tame. Such a thing as a real wild horse is hardly to be found anywhere, save in certain places in Texas, California, and parts of South America. Elsewhere, the horse is tame enough, and no one can remember, neither is it told in any history or story book, when or where men first tamed him and put a bit in his mouth. A long, long time ago, all the horses were wild, but no one knows when that could have been, for, as long as men can remember, they have had tame horses, dogs, cats, elephants, camels and cattle.