124
POEMS OF THE OPEN AIR.
THE TEAMSTER.
With slow and slouching gait Sam leads the team;
He stoops i' the shoulders, worn with work not years;
One only passion has he, it would seem—
The passion for the horses which he rears:
He names them as one would some household pet,
May, Violet.
He thinks them quite as sensible as men;
As nice as women, but not near so skittish;
He fondles, cossets, scolds them now and then,
Nay, gravely talks as if they knew good British:
You hear him call from dawn to set of sun,
"Goo back! Com on!"
