Sonnet

Give me my rein, my sais !' Give me my rein! 
    I have a need of it, an absolute need,
To climb upon that bounding back again
    And curb the bad, mad gambols of my steed.
 'Tis strange we are thus parted—by no lust
    Of mine, but rather blind, unwearied force 
    That worked upon the sinews of my horse, 
And drove me from him, howling in the dust.

Now he is neither gentle, kind, nor quiet,
  And strives (though vainly) to outleap his girth, 
While right and left the armed hooves are hurled. 
 0 Destrier! bethink thee that this riot
  Shall, in the end, bring neither rest nor mirth. . . .
Only the heaviest bit in all the world!