And one that curvets in and out,
Reining his fellow Cob about,--
Would I were in his _steed_!


XV.

Yet he would glady halt and drop
That boyish harness off, to swop
With this world's heavy van--
To toil, to tug. O little fool!
While thou canst be a horse at school,
To wish to be a man!


XVI.

Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing
To wear a crown,--to be a king!
And sleep on regal down!
Alas! thou know'st not kingly cares;
For happier is thy head that wears
That hat without a crown!


XVII.

And dost thou think that years acquire
New added joys? Dost think thy sire
More happy than his son?