I saw horses walk from the sea,
Dripping wet, tossing green foam,
Bearing gifts in their long, golden eyes.
Lips curled 'round an invisible bit,
Manes cropped and nostrils flaring...
Such beauties pranced
Straight out of Constantinople,
Thro' seven centuries of war,
To stand on Forty-Second Street,
Bearing their proud Imperial Guard.
Heads turn, and hearts beat faster
As they trot past in perfect unison...
Great, bronze chargers,
With necks thicker than we've ever seen...
How lovingly some artist crafted them,
So they come at us still,
Fresh and strong as they were cast.