The beasts are very wise, Their mouths are clean of lies; They talk one to the other, Bullock to bullock's brother, Resting after their labours, Each in stall with his neighbours. But man with goad and whip, Breaks up their fellowship, Shouts in their silky ears Filling their souls with fears. When he has tilled the land He says, 'They understand.' But the beasts in stall together, Freed from yoke and tether, Say, as the torn flanks smoke, 'Nay, 'twas the whip that spoke.'
Choose another poem