68 Best Horse Poems to Inspire You

Horses have been a symbol of grace, beauty, and freedom for centuries, inspiring countless poets and artists to capture their spirit in words and images.

Horse poems offer a window into the unique relationship between humans and horses, celebrating their strength, loyalty, and innate majesty.

From funny and whimsical poems to touching and inspirational ones, there is a horse poem for every taste and occasion.

Whether you’re a seasoned equestrian or simply appreciate the beauty of these majestic animals, horse poems can inspire and uplift you.

So saddle up and explore the world of poems about horses, from the inspirational and sentimental to the funny and irreverent.

Famous Horse Poems

Many famous poets have been captivated by the beauty and majesty of horses, immortalizing them in verse. Let’s read these famous poems for horse.

1. The Horse and the Mule

       by John Huddlestone Wynne

The pampered steed, of swiftness proud,
Pranced o’er the plains, and neighed aloud.
A Mule he met, of sober pace,
And straight defied her to a race.
Long she declined to try the course;
How could she match in speed the horse?
At length, while pawing side by side,
A precipice the Mule espied,
And in her turn the Horse defied.
Near to its foot there stood a tree,
Which both agreed the goal should be.
Hasty rushed on the bounding steed,
And slowly sees the Mule proceed:
He sees, he scorns; but as they bend
From the rough mountain to descend,
He finds his boasted swiftness vain,
For footing here he can’t maintain.
The steady Mule the toil abides,
And skillful down the hill she slides,
Reaching the goal, well pleased to find
The vaunting Horse creep slow behind;
Who, tumbling from the mountain’s brow,

Came battered to the vale below;
Too late convinced, by what had passed,
That ” slow and sure goes far at last”.

2. The Blood Horse

       by Bryan Waller Procter

Gamarra is a dainty steed,
Strong, black, and of a noble breed,
Full of fire, and full of bone,
With all his line of fathers known;
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within!
His mane is like a river flowing,
And his eyes like embers glowing
In the darkness of the night,
And his pace as swift as light.
Look,—how ’round his straining throat
Grace and shifting beauty float!
Sinewy strength is in his reins,
And the red blood gallops through his veins;
Richer, redder, never ran
Through the boasting heart of man.
He can trace his lineage higher
Than the Bourbon dare aspire,—
Douglas, Guzman, or the Guelph,
Or O’Brien’s blood itself!
He, who hath no peer, was born,
Here, upon a red March morn;
But his famous fathers dead
Were Arabs all, and Arab bred,
And the last of that great line
Trod like one of a race divine!
And yet,—he was but friend to one
Who fed him at the set of sun,
By some lone fountain fringed with green:
With him, a roving Bedouin,
He lived, (none else would he obey
Through all the hot Arabian day),
And died untamed upon the sands
Where Balkh amidst the desert stands.

3. The Stallion

       by The Stallion

A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses,
Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.
I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?
Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.

4. No Buyers

       by Thomas Hardy

A Load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairs
Labours along the street in the rain:
With it a man, a woman, a pony with whiteybrown hairs. — The man foots in front of the horse with a shambling sway
At a slower tread than a funeral train,
While to a dirge-like tune he chants his wares,
Swinging a Turk’s-head brush (in a drum-major’s way When the bandsmen march and play).
A yard from the back of the man is the whiteybrown pony’s nose: He mirrors his master in every item of pace and pose: He stops when the man stops, without being told,
And seems to be eased by a pause; too plainly he’s old,
Indeed, not strength enough shows
To steer the disjointed waggon straight,
Which wriggles left and right in a rambling line,
Deflected thus by its own warp and weight,
And pushing the pony with it in each incline.
The woman walks on the pavement verge,
Parallel to the man:
She wears an apron white and wide in span,
And carries a like Turk’s-head, but more in nursing-wise: Now and then she joins in his dirge,
But as if her thoughts were on distant things,
The rain clams her apron till it clings. —
So, step by step, they move with their merchandize, And nobody buys.

5. Horse

       by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

His bridle hung around the post.
The sun and the leaves made spots come down;
I looked close at him through the fence;
The post was drab and he was brown.
His nose was long and hard and still,
And on his lip were specks like chalk.
But once he opened up his eyes,
And he began to talk.
He didn’t talk out with his mouth;
He didn’t talk with words or noise.
The talk was there along his nose;
It seemed and then it was.
He said the day was hot and slow,
And he said he didn’t like the flies;
They made him have to shake his skin,
And they got drowned in his eyes.
He said that drab was just about
The same as brown, but he was not
A post, he said, to hold a fence.
“I’m horse,” he said, “that’s what!”
And then he shut his eyes again.
As still as they had been before.
He said for me to run along
And not to bother him anymore.

6. The Horses

       by Edwin Muir

Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid.
On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, heading north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,
And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms
All over the world. But now if they should speak,
If on a sudden they should speak again,
If on the stroke of noon a voice should speak,
We would not listn, we would not let it bring
That old bad world that swallowed its children quick
At one great gulp. We would not have it again.
Sometimes we think of the nations lying asleep,
Curled blindly in impenetrable sorrow,
And then the thought confounds us with its strangeness.
The tractors lie about our fields; at evening
They look like dank sea-monsters couched and waiting.
We leave them where they are and let them rust:
“They’ll molder away and be like other loam.”
We make our oxen drag our rusty plows,
Long laid aside. We have gone back
Far past our fathers’ land.
And then, that evening
Late in the summer the strange horses came.
We heard a distant tapping on the road,
A deepening drumming; it stopped, went on again
And at the corner changed to hollow thunder.
We saw the heads
Like a wild wave charging and were afraid.
We had sold our horses in our fathers’ time
To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us
As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield.
Or illustrations in a book of knights.
We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited,
Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent
By an old command to find our whereabouts
And that long-lost archaic companionship.
In the first moment we had never a thought
That they were creatures to be owned and used.
Among them were some half a dozen colts
Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world,
Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden.
Since then they have pulled our plows and borne our loads,
But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.
Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.

7. Barberry

       by Hilda Conkling

I’m going to have a horse
Named Barberry,
His coat the color of barberry leaves
In autumn:
Russet red he will be
With flylng mane,
Strong and wiry,
His head slender and haughty!
Touch him . . . feel the life and joy within him
Run through you like fire!
He will be free as wind:
He will take me through forests away from people,
Past lakes, across rivers, into the mountains:
He will go galloping across corn fields by twilight
He will find me a coral beach.
His eyes will snap with joy of always being free.
People may give me their best horses . . .
Barberry for me, against them all!

8. Horses on the Grass

       by Grace Schulman

From the tower window
the moon
draws a silver maple’s shadow
across a spangled lawn;
rear, manes lashing the air,
front legs floating.
Half monarch,
half shadow, the tree
aspires to the sky;
one branch, cracked by lightning,
scrapes the earth.
on the grass, bent twigs
are curved hooves, galloping
as the moon rises.

Divided it stands
in wholeness, mourning
its victories, praising
the god of trees, the king of horses.

The tree holds souls
in a bark prison
poised like a runner at the starting line—
and bolts free, wildly
pawing the ground those roots lie under.

Inspirational Horse Poems

Horses inspire us to be our best selves. These best horse poems offer words of wisdom and encouragement, reminding us of our inner strength.

1. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

       by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

2. Horse and Rider

       by Kim Schilling

Galloping towards the base of the steep hill,
watching the breeze bluster through her mane,
with a mild touch I veered her with reign;
For a serene moment all time stood still.
Horse and mount journeying with great skill,
but collectively as one we must attain;
Galloping towards the base of the steep hill,
watching the breeze bluster through her mane.

Feeling the power beneath me is a thrill,
and racing across the meadowy plane,
a feeling rushes over I can’t explain,
perhaps the reality of taking a spill;
Galloping towards the base of the steep hill.

3. A Horse Is a Horse

       by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

A horse is a horse and a man is a man
And neither can be the other
And each can survive but is much better
In the company of one another.
And while a horse is a horse and that is true
A horse is but a beast
As a cow is a cow, some ask how
On its flesh we should not feast?
For they do so in France as in other places
And I don’t know how they can
For while a horse is a horse and is only a horse
It is less a cow than it is a man!

4. A Blessing

       by A Blessing

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

5. The Wild Ride

       by Louise Imogen Guiney

I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.

Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle
Weather-worn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion,
With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.

The trail is through dolour and dread, over crags and morasses;
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:
What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.

Thought’s self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb,
And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam:
Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing.

A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle,
A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty:
We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.

(I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.)

We spur to a land of no name, out-racing the storm-wind;
We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil.
Thou leadest, O God! All’s well with Thy troopers that follow.

6. A Woman Driving

       by Thomas Hardy

How she held up the horses’ heads,
Firm-lipped, with steady rein,
Down that grim steep the coastguard treads,
Till all was safe again!

With form erect and keen contour
She passed against the sea,
And, dipping into the chine’s obscure,
Was seen no more by me.

To others she appeared anew
At times of dusky light,
But always, so they told, withdrew
From close and curious sight.

Some said her silent wheels would roll
Rutless on softest loam,
And even that her steeds’ footfall
Sank not upon the foam.

Where drives she now? It may be where
No mortal horses are,
But in a chariot of the air
Towards some radiant star.

7. Wild Horse of the Prairies

       by Isaac McLellan

For other scenes their lights expand,
Out in the savage western land,
Where wildernesses lone and grand,
Their awful glooms extend;
Far where the Rocky Mounts upthrow
Their pinnacles of rock and snow,
White cones, whereon the sunset’s glow,
Its roseate hues doth blend.
Around them, woods primeval press,
Around them, pastures measureless,
Waved by the idle wind’s caress,
Reach th’ horizon’s edge.
In dark ravine and gulch the bear
And tiger-cat have made their lair,
The bison range the meadows there,
To browse the bending sedge.
O’er open plain, in leafy dell,
In hollow vale, on upland swell,
The wild steeds of the prairies dwell,
Free as the mountain wind;
No iron bit or curb have they,
No galling spur, no trappings gay,
No rider to control their way,
Their untam’d limbs to bind.
Free as the eagle cleaves through space,
They curvet or they join in race,
Fleeter than wild beasts of the chase,
A vast unnumbered throng;
They crop the dewy grass at will,
In ice cold waters drink their fill,
Scour the wild plain or sweep the hill,
Unscarr’d by whip or thong.
Yet comes at times a yelling crew,
The savage with his wild halloo,
The painted Blackfoot or Sioux,
All greedy for the spoil;
It were a thrilling sight to see
Those lawless riders fierce and free,
Each swinging with a madden’d glee,
The lariat’s twisting coil.
On, on the frantic horsemen sweep,
On, on the snorting wild steeds leap,
Down flowery slope, o’er wooded steep,
Pursuers and pursued;
Then far th’ unerring noose is thrown,
The stately bay or lusty roan
Fall captive, panting, with a groan,
All vanquish’d and subdued.

Funny Horse Poems

Humorous and playful, funny poems about horses capture the quirky side of horses, bringing a smile to our faces and brightening our day.

1. My Sweet Aunt Mabel

       by Michael Wise

There is my sweet Aunt Mabel
sitting across the table
ever since her divorce
she eats like a horse
so we put her up in a stable

2. Curiosity

       by Mary Tourtel

All horses very curious are
And things which they espy afar
Arouse their curiosity:
They wonder what on earth they see.

With ears pricked up and cautious mien
They come to see. When they have seen,
They snort and turn and off they scurry
In a contemptuous desperate hurry.

3. Horse

       by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who sat on a Horse when he reared;
But they said, “Never mind! you will fall off behind,
You propitious Old Man with a beard!”

There was an Old Man of Nepaul,
From his horse had a terrible fall;
But, though split quite in two, with some very strong glue
They mended that man of Nepaul.

4. The Horse and the Ass

       by Jean de La Fontaine

In such a world, all men, of every grade,
Should each the other kindly aid;
For, if beneath misfortune’s goad
A neighbour falls, on you will fall his load.

There jogg’d in company an ass and horse;
Nought but his harness did the last endorse;
The other bore a load that crush’d him down,
And begg’d the horse a little help to give,
Or otherwise he could not reach the town.
‘This prayer,’ said he, ‘is civil, I believe;
One half this burden you would scarcely feel.’
The horse refused, flung up a scornful heel,
And saw his comrade die beneath the weight: –
And saw his wrong too late;
For on his own proud back
They put the ass’s pack,
And over that, beside,
They put the ass’s hide.

5. The Horse (The Adventures of Seumas Beg)

       by James Stephens

A sparrow hopped about the street,
And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse’s feet,
And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
The bird came for the grains that fell.

For his eye was looking down,
And he danced the corn about
In his nose-bag, till the brown
Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
“Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!”

The driver then came back again,
He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse’s ribs were hit,
The sparrow did not care a bit.

6. My Pony

       by Anonymous

My pony toss’d his sprightly head,
And would have smiled, if smile he could,
To thank me for the slice of bread
He thinks so delicate and good;
His eye is very bright and wild,
He looks as if he loved me so,
Although I only am a child
And he’s a real horse, you know.

How charming it would be to rear,
And have hind legs to balance on;
Of hay and oats within the year
To leisurely devour a ton;
To stoop my head and quench my drouth
With water in a lovely pail;
To wear a snaffle in my mouth,
Fling back my ears, and slash my tail!

To gallop madly round a field,—
Who tries to catch me is a goose,
And then with dignity to yield
My stately back for rider’s use;
To feel as only horses can,
When matters take their proper course,
And no one notices the man,
While loud applauses greet the horse!

He canters fast or ambles slow,
And either is a pretty game;
His duties are but pleasures—oh,
I wish that mine were just the same!
Lessons would be another thing
If I might turn from book and scroll,
And learn to gallop round a ring,
As he did when a little foal.

It must be charming to be shod,
And beautiful beyond my praise,
When tired of rolling on the sod,
To stand upon all-fours and graze!
Alas! my dreams are weak and wild,
I must not ape my betters so;
Alas! I only am a child,
And he’s a real horse, you know.

7. I Had a Little Hobby-Horse

       by Anonymous

I had a little hobby-horse, and it was well shod,
It carried me to the mill-door, trod, trod, trod;
When I got there I gave a great shout,
Down came the hobby-horse, and I cried out.
Fie upon the miller, he was a great beast,
He would not come to my house, I made a little feast,
I had but little, but I would give him some,
For playing of his bag-pipes and beating his drum.

8. Old Age

       by Mary Tourtel

This horse’s working days are o’er.
The shafts and saddle nevermore
Shall hold him. Here he waits his end
Cared for by those who love to tend

An old companion. He may rest
In his loose box or take the best
Of grazing which the meadows give—
A pensioner while he shall live.

9. The Fool

       by Archaic Poet

Naught to say I shan’t disparage
A cherub in its stroller
Laugh at married horse-drawn carriage:
Denounce a Holy-Roller!

Point my fingers in their direction,
And have a hearty chuckle!
In Truth it is my own reflection-
One which leaves me puzzled…

No one should suffer ridicule,
By the words bled from my tongue…
But in the end, I am the Fool
Who should never make the fun!

Short Horse Poems

In just a few lines, these beautiful short horse poems capture the essence of these majestic animals, offering a glimpse into their world and spirit.

1. The Horseman

       by Walter De la Mare

I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The night was still;
His helm was silver,
And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.

2. Excerpt from “A Country Boy in Winter”

       by Sarah Orne Jewett

I like to hear the old horse neigh
Just as I come in sight,
The oxen poke me with their horns
To get their hay at night.
Somehow the creatures seem like friends,
And like to see me come.
Some fellows talk about New York,
But I shall stay at home.

3. The White Horse

       by D.H. Lawrence

The youth walks up to the white horse, to put its halter on
and the horse looks at him in silence.
They are so silent, they are in another world.

4. Who Would Hurt a Horse or Tree

       by Annette Wynne

Who would hurt a horse or tree
Does not deserve good company.
Who would hurt a bird that sings
Is meanest of all earthly things.

5. Commandeered

       by L.G. Moberly

Last year he drew the harvest home
Along the winding upland lane;
The children twisted marigolds
And clover flowers, to deck his mane.
Last year—he drew the harvest home!
To-day—with puzzled, patient face,
With ears a-droop, and weary feet,
He marches to the sound of drums,
And draws the gun along the street.
To-day—he draws the guns of war!

6. If Wishes Were Horses

       by Anonymous

If wishes were horses,
Beggars would ride;
If turnips were watches,
I would wear one by my side.

7. Ride a Cock-Horse

       by Anonymous

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury-cross,
To see an old lady upon a white horse,
Rings on her fingers, and bells on her toes,
And so she makes music wherever she goes.

8. Grey Diamond

       by Roy Pett

There was a young jockey from Ireland
Booked to ride the race horse, grey diamond
he wanted to be seen
painted grey diamond green
and kissed the Blarney Stone for Ireland.

Horse Poems for Kids

With whimsical rhymes and playful imagery, horse poems for kids introduce young readers to the joy and wonder of horses.

1. Humpty Dumpty Rode a Horse

       by Anonymous

Humpty dumpty rode a horse.
Humpty dumpty fell off, of course.
All the cowboys, and all the cowgirls,
Put Humpty Dumpty back with the toys.

2. Plowboy

       by Carl Sandburg

After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
Plowing in the dusk the last furrow.
The turf had a gleam of brown,
And smell of soil was in the air,
And, cool and moist, a haze of April.

I shall remember you long,
Plowboy and horses against the sky in shadow.
I shall remember you and the picture
You made for me,
Turning the turf in the dusk
And haze of an April gloaming.

3. Suppose

       by Walter De La Mare

Suppose … and suppose that a wild little Horse of Magic
Came cantering out of the sky,
With bridle of silver, and into the saddle I mounted,
To fly — and to fly;

And we stretched up into the air, fleeting on in the sunshine,
A speck in the gleam,
On galloping hoofs, his mane in the wind out-flowing,
In a shadowy stream;

And oh, when, all lone, the gentle star of evening
Came crinkling into the blue,
A magical castle we saw in the air, like a cloud of moonlight,
As onward we flew;

And across the green moat on the drawbridge we foamed and we snorted,
And there was a beautiful Queen
Who smiled at me strangely; and spoke to my wild little Horse, too —
A lovely and beautiful Queen;

And she cried with delight — and delight — to her delicate maidens,
‘Behold my daughter — my dear!’
And they crowned me with flowers, and then to their harps sate playing,
Solemn and clear;

And magical cakes and goblets were spread on the table;
And at window the birds came in;
Hopping along with bright eyes, pecking crumbs from the platters,
And sipped of the wine;

And splashing up — up to the roof tossed fountains of crystal;
And Princes in scarlet and green
Shot with their bows and arrows, and kneeled with their dishes
Of fruits for the Queen;

And we walked in a magical garden with rivers and bowers,
And my bed was of ivory and gold;
And the Queen breathed soft in my ear a song of enchantment —
And I never grew old….

And I never, never came back to the earth, oh, never and never;
How mother would cry and cry!
There’d be snow on the fields then, and all these sweet flowers in the winter
Would wither, and die….

Suppose … and suppose.

4. Horse Racing

       by Reginald Telemacque

She opened her legs then hopped up on it
She gripped it tight then sat down on it
He started to move so she began to ride it
She loved the feeling cuz she enjoyed it
She pulled out the whip to show that she was master
And when she swung it he began to go faster
She started to scream at the top of her voice
For the way he made her feel her voice got so hoarse
After a thirty minute run he started to tire
For this horse was no longer young he was ready to retire

5. Three Hundred and Fifty Horses

       by Sara Kendrick

There was a man who had a horse
Means of friendship and transportation of course
Everywhere the man did go horse was there for show
This horse began old to grow

To the used car lot the man did go
Selecting a car with many horses you know
Not knowing it was a lemon he bought
Now on the car he constantly sought

Parts to replace what would not go and
On one side the man would stand
Peering into the broken car with plan
On a stump on the other side

The horse would stand trying to guide
His friend on where the problem did lie
Also he was studying the working parts
Trying to figure out how all those horses fit inside

6. The Bay Horse

       by Arthur Conan Doyle

Squire wants the bay horse,
For it is the best.
Squire holds the mortgage;
Where’s the interest?
Haven’t got the interest,
Can’t raise a sou;
Shan’t sell the bay horse,
Whatever he may do.

Did you see the bay horse?
Such a one to go!
He took a bit of ridin’,
When I showed him at the Show.
First prize the broad jump,
First prize the high;
Gold medal, Class A,
You’ll see it by-and-by.

I bred the bay horse
On the Withy Farm.
I broke the bay horse,
He broke my arm.
Don’t blame the bay horse,
Blame the brittle bone,
I bred him and I’ve fed him,
And he’s all my very own.

Just watch the bay horse
Chock full of sense!
Ain’t he just beautiful,
Risin’ to a fence!
Just hear the bay horse
Whinin’ in his stall,
Purrin’ like a pussy cat
When he hears me call.

But if Squire’s lawyer
Serves me with his writ,
I’ll take the bay horse
To Marley gravel pit.
Over the quarry edge,
I’ll sit him tight,
If he wants the brown hide,
He’s welcome to the white!

7. The Fly-Away Horse

       by Eugene Field

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse–
Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
For it’s only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
Is up on his heels and away!
The moon in the sky,
As he gallopeth by,
Cries: “Oh! What a marvelous sight!”
And the Stars in dismay
Hide their faces away
In the lap of old Grandmother Night.

It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away Horse
Speedeth ever and ever away–
Over meadows and lane, over mountains and plains,
Over streamlets that sing at their play;
And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,
While the ships they go sailing below,
And he speedeth so fast that the men on the mast
Adjudge him some portent of woe.
“What ho, there!” they cry,
As he flourishes by
With a whisk of his beautiful tail;
And the fish in the sea
Are as scared as can be,
From the nautilus up to the whale!

And the Fly-Away Horse seeks those far-away lands
You little folk dream of at night–
Where candy-trees grow, and honey-brooks flow,
And corn-fields with popcorn are white;
And the beasts in the wood are ever so good
To children who visit them there–
What glory astride of a lion to ride,
Or to wrestle around with a bear!
The monkeys, they say:
“Come on, let us play,”
And they frisk in the coconut-trees:
While the parrots, that cling
To the peanut-vines sing
Or converse with comparative ease!

Off! scamper to bed — you shall ride him to-night!
For, as soon as you’ve fallen asleep,
With a jubilant neigh he shall bear you away
Over forest and hillside and deep!
But tell us, my dear, all you see and you hear
In those beautiful lands over there,
Where the Fly-Away Horse wings his far-away course
With the wee one consigned to his care.
Then grandma will cry
In amazement: “Oh, my!”
And she’ll think it could never be so.
And only we two
Shall know it is true–
You and I, little precious! shall know!

8. Ten Little Horses

       by Anonymous

One little, two little,
three little horses.
Four little, five little,
six little horses.
Seven little, eight little,
Nine little horses.
Ten little horses trotting away.

9. Horses

       by Anonymous

Horses trotting on the hill side.
I wish I had one to call mine.
Their manes are shiny and long.
Their muscles are big and strong.
The sun is going down.
It’s time for the horses to go home.

Horse Poems for Adults

From the inspirational to the humorous, horse poems for adults celebrate the beauty and complexity of our relationship with these magnificent animals.

1. The Horse

       by Ronald Duncan

Where in this wide world can
man find nobility without pride,
friendship without envy or beauty
without vanity? Here, where
grace is laced with muscle, and
strength by gentleness confined.

He serves without servility; he has
fought without enmity. There is
nothing so powerful, nothing less
violent, there is nothing so quick,
nothing more patient.

England’s past has been borne on
his back. All our history is his
industry; we are his heirs; he
our inheritance.

2. When the Riding is Done

       by J.P Gorham

You know I’ll always ride here
even when my riding’s done
In the whisper of the pre-dawn
or the final burst of sun
At the corners of transition
where the changes are obscured
I will ride and if you see me
it’s because our love has endured.

You know I’ll never leave you
even when I’m far away
In the moments when the words stop
and your breath gets in the way
I will softly say I love you
barely louder than the breeze
So, I hope you gently listen
to my voice between the trees.

You know I’ll try to hold you
even when my arms can’t grasp
Just to bring you comfort
when your throat lets out a gasp
The feelings that we share here
will transcend just what we see
And my horse will still be waiting
right beneath our favourite tree.

You know you are forever
but it’s easy when we’re here
Just a hand away from holding
and a hug away from fear
So, you have to make a promise
that your hope will never run
And you know I’ll always ride here
even when my riding’s done.

3. He Bids His Beloved Be at Peace

       by William Butler Yeats

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love’s lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous

4. The Man and His Horse

       by Anne Kingsmill Finch

Within a Meadow, on the way,
A sordid Churl resolv’d to stay,
And give his Horse a Bite;
Purloining so his Neighbours Hay,
That at the Inn he might not pay
For Forage all the Night.
With Heart’s content th’ unloaded Steed
Began to neigh, and frisk, and feed;
For nothing more he car’d,
Since none of all his Master’s breed
E’er found such Pasture, at their need,
Or half so well had far’d.
When, in the turning of a Hand,
Out comes the Owner of the Land,
And do’s the Trespass eye;
Which puts poor Bayard to a Stand,
For now his Master do’s command
Him to return and fly.
But Hunger quick’ning up his Wit,
And Grass being sweeter than the Bit,
He to the Clown reply’d;
Shall I for you this Dinner quit,
Who to my Back hard Burdens fit,
And to the Death wou’d ride?
No; shou’d I as a Stray be found,
And seiz’d upon forbidden Ground,
I’ll on this Spot stand still;
For tho’ new Riders shou’d abound,
(Or did Mankind this Field surround)
They cou’d but use me ill.
Urge no Man to despair; lest in the Fit
He with some Counterblow thy Head may hit.

5. Horses

       by Jennifer Gray

The neighbor’s horses idle
under the roof
of their three-sided shelter,
looking out at the rain.

one or another
will fade into the shadows
in the corner, maybe
to eat, or drink.

Still, the others stand,
blowing out their warm
breaths. Rain rattles
on the metal roof.

Their hoof prints
in the corral
open gray eyes to the sky,
and wink each time
another drop falls in.

6. Waterin’ Th’ Horses

       by Margaret E. Sangster

I took th’ horses to th’ brook—to water ’em you know,
Th’ air was cold with just a touch o’ frost;
And as we went a-joggin’ down I couldn’t help but think,
O’ city folk an’ all the things they lost.
O’ cause they have their lighted streets—their Great White Way an’ such,
O’ course they have their buildings large an’ tall;
But, my! they never know th’ joy o’ ridin’ ter th’ brook,
An’ somehow I don’t envy ’em at all!
Perhaps I’d like it—for awhile—to hear th’ songs an’ laughter,
But somehow, I don’t know exactly why;
I’d feel th’ country callin’ me; I’d long again fer silence,
An’ fer God’s mountains, blue against the sky.
I took th’ horses to th’ brook—to water ’em you know,
Th’ day was pretty as a day can be;
An’ as we went a-joggin’ down I couldn’t help but think,
O’ city folk an’ all they never see!

7. At Grass

       by Philip Larkin

The eye can hardly pick them out
From the cold shade they shelter in,
Till wind distresses tail and mane;
Then one crops grass, and moves about
– The other seeming to look on –
And stands anonymous again

Yet fifteen years ago, perhaps
Two dozen distances sufficed
To fable them : faint afternoons
Of Cups and Stakes and Handicaps,
Whereby their names were artificed
To inlay faded, classic Junes –

Silks at the start : against the sky
Numbers and parasols : outside,
Squadrons of empty cars, and heat,
And littered grass : then the long cry
Hanging unhushed till it subside
To stop-press columns on the street.

Do memories plague their ears like flies?
They shake their heads. Dusk brims the shadows.
Summer by summer all stole away,
The starting-gates, the crowd and cries –
All but the unmolesting meadows.
Almanacked, their names live; they

Have slipped their names, and stand at ease,
Or gallop for what must be joy,
And not a fieldglass sees them home,
Or curious stop-watch prophesies:
Only the grooms, and the grooms boy,
With bridles in the evening come.

8. The Listeners

       by Walter De La Mare

“Is there anybody there?” said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grass
Of the forest’s ferny floor;
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
“Is there anybody there?” he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.

And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
‘Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:–
“Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,” he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Horse Poems for Funerals

Honoring the bond between humans and horses, horse poems for funerals offer a heartfelt way to say goodbye to a beloved equine companion. Let’s go through these horse death poems.

1. Clem

       by Vernette Hutcherson

When Clem finally made it into town
Leading his horse and swearing
The townfolk looked at him askance
But, Clem totally wasn’t caring

He had walked the last five miles
His horse had thrown a shoe
Walking wasn’t his favorite sport
But, there was nothing else to do
He was mighty hungry
His throat was desert dry
He planned to get a juicy steak
And great, big, bottle of rye
He left his horse with the smithy
Then walked across the street
He decided to quench his thirst
Before he went to eat
Trina was dancing in the saloon that day
A lady so sweet and fair
With silver buckles on her shoes
And rhinestones in her hair
Clem felt his heart skip a beat
And knew he had fallen in love
He didn’t realize he was staring
Til a big man gave him a shove
“That’s my woman”, the big man said
“So, put your eyes back in their socket”
And without the slightest warning
Drew a derringer from his pocket
Clem tried to leave without a fight
But the big man stood in his way
Just one shot was all it took
To kill Clem that day
The marshal arrested the big man
Clem was buried on Boot Hill
The smithy auctioned off his horse
To pay his funeral bill
When Trina left town soon after that
She wanted to say goodbye
So she left a rose on poor Clem’s grave
And a great, big, bottle of rye

2. Horsing Around-A Horse Tale

       by Panagiota Romios

A starry night, a dark, Kentucky barn.
Who would expect any harm?

The chocolate mare her handsome, manly stallion.
Who knew that night, what would befall them?

That fateful night, he actually asked her for a divorce?
With her hooves, she jumped on his head, of course!

Her stallion passed with such a bloodied fury.
In court, flashed her long eyelids,then came,a not guilty?

After his funeral,a sensuous Philly she met.
As handsome as any queen mare,a Philly could get!

I can hear them in the old barn now,
Wow, sounds like a horsey event, holy cow!

3. Unreceived Parcel

       by Tahira Parveen

I have sent your parcel Please be patient 
Your curtain hooks have been sent
It’s on its way
Yes sir, I have sent it
I will make a special deliver
Through the dark forces of night
In horse and cart
Await me at 2 am tonight
Leave the window slightly ajar
I will ring three chimes on my arrival
With your special delivery
Slide open the window
Look down You will see me standing there with your parcel
Slowly on your toes 
Push forward and slide out the window
Reach for me
Then you will have your parcel 
I will have delivered the goods
Your wife will have curtain hooks to hang the curtains 
Then your curtains will be closed forever
I will place roses on your grave
Sending you a graceful goodbye
Delivering, your unreceived goods

4. Potted Bios of Three English Kings Named William

       by Julian Scutts

First a quick word on Robert the Devil,
whose turbulent life turned out quite a revel.
He fathered a child on a poor tanner’s daughter
then dashed to repent in Jerusalem’s quarter,
but on his return, sad to say, he died,
yet he set up his son, his only pride.
Though being dubbed “bastard” earned him rebuke
Son William became a very tough duke,
as shown by the fact he became England’s king
on Christmas Day when the church bells did ring.
Poor England he ruled with a grim iron rod.
He harried the North like a merciless god.
To gauge England’s wealth great pains, he took,
which to prove I name the Doomsday Book.
Once his horse took fright in a fiery melee
and part of his saddle punctured his belly.
After this mishap he did not live long.
When his belly burst, oh what a pong!
The monks in Rouen cut his funeral short,
when incense galore no remedy brought.
Then his son William Rufus ascended the throne.
To wild fits and frenzy this redhead was prone.
He found city life somewhat too narrow.
Out riding one day, he was struck by an arrow.

William the Fourth died in his bed,
which somehow fitted the life he had led.
He had multiple children but not with his wife.
Exemplary no way was King William’s life.

5. There for Me

       by Paul Schneiter

Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and steady
but you came through when I was only half ready.

So oft you had to be not just a mom but a dad too.
It wounds me to confesss it but we both know it’s true.

Memories of sworn promises to you I didn’t keep
cauterize my conscience and cost me peaceful sleep.

Yes, dear, you were always there for me
seasons in and seasons out.
Thus you immeasurably blessed my life
of that there can be no doubt.

I like to think I repaid you at least a loving little.
If not, I pray God grant me mercy and an acquittal.

6. I Passed Away Last Weekend

       by David Pekrul

Well, here I am.
I never expected it to happen this soon,
but I passed away last weekend.

Stupid horse,
I told them I didn’t like horses,
too much power for an animal that gets spooked so easily.
But I blame it on the rattlesnake,
I hate them too,
so did the horse.

Stupid snake spooked the horse and it threw me.
The doctor says I died when I struck my head on a rock,
busted my head wide open, he says.
Well, maybe I did,
how would I know,
I’m dead.

What really gets my goat,
is lying in this box at what is supposed to be my funeral,
the celebration of my life,
with people remembering the ‘fine fellow’ I was.

Who are these people anyway?!
Someone must have gotten the eulogy mixed up with the funeral next door.
I hear someone talking,
but I don’t recognize his voice.

Who on earth is he talking about?
Is that supposed to be me?
“gentle spirit”
“giving and kind”,
“always caring for his fellow man”.

He doesn’t know me very well, does he?
Get someone up here who knows the real me.
Tell them what I was really like,
“lazy slob with no sex appeal”,
“cheap penny-pincher”,
“lousy dresser”.

Oh, well,
Let them have their day.
If they think better of me when I’m dead then when I was alive,
who’s it going to hurt?
Just so long as you know it ain’t so,
I guess that’s all that counts.

Hey, if you happen to be driving by the cemetery,
why not drop in for a visit,
and bring flowers.
I like orchids.

7. Boot Hill

       by Rico Leffanta

Boot Hill is filled with remorse
From folks who could not stay the course
But a lot could be worse
Than a ride in a hearse
For a cowboy who ain’t got no horse!

8. Dark Horse

       by Christine A Kysely

thick blanket of death
from the forest, heavy mist
lone dark horse comes.

Horse Poems That Rhyme

Rhyming horse poems offer a musical quality to their words, adding to the lyrical beauty of these magnificent animals. Aren’t these horse-rhyming poems absolutely beautiful?

1. In Clay

       by Madison Julius Cawein

Here went a horse with heavy laboring stride
Along the woodland side;
Deep in the clay his iron hoof-marks show,
Patient and slow,
Where with his human burden yesterday
He passed this way.

Would that this wind that tramples ’round me here,
Among the sad and sere
Of winter-weary forests, were a steed,
Mighty indeed,
And tameless as the tempest of its pace,
Upon whom man might place.

The boundless burden of his mortal cares,
Life’s griefs, despairs,
And ruined dreams that bow the spirit so!
And let him go
Bearing them far from the sad world, ah me!
Leaving it free.

As in that Age of Gold, of which men tell,
When Earth was glad and gods came here to dwell.

2. Keep Your Ears Ahead

       by Douglas Malloch

On the tote-road, on the street, on the trail or tram,
I have known a hoss or two, teamster that I am:
Steppers with Kentucky blood, ordinary plugs,
Ev’ry kind of animile ever wearin’ tugs;
Mustang pony, Percheron, goer, thoroughbred—
But the only hoss worth while kept his ears ahead.
When a plug becomes a plug ain’t when he gits old;
For a plug may be a plug from the day he’s foaled.
When a critter to the back slants them ears of his,
Then you know the bloomin’ brute, know the brute he is.
For he’ll either bite or balk, loaf, or bolt instead;
Never trust a hoss unless he keeps his ears ahead.
But a hoss that is a hoss, of the proper kind,
Doesn’t listen all the while for the whip behind.
He is lookin’ down the road, sniffin’, an’ all that—
He is takin’ interest in the work he’s at.
Work is joy to such a nag, farm or fancy bred;
Life is somethin’ to a hoss that keeps his ears ahead.
Man is somethin’ like a boss, with his work to do;
On the tough old trail of life how is it with you?
Do you put your shoulder then in the collar square?
Of the load we have to pull, do you pull a share?
Are you full of pep an’ steam, or is your spirit dead?
Are you livin’ in the past, or are your ears ahead?

3. The Horses

       by Katherine Lee Bates

What was our share in the sinning,
That we must share the doom?
Sweet was our life’s beginning
In the spicy meadow-bloom,
With children’s hands to pet us
And kindly tones to call.
To-day the red spurs fret us
Against the bayonet wall.
What had we done, our masters,
That you sold us into hell?
Our terrors and disasters
Have filled your pockets well.
You feast on our starvation;
Your laughter is our groan.
Have horses then no nation,
No country of their own?
What are we, we your horses,
So loyal where we serve,
Fashioned of noble forces
All sensitive with nerve?
Torn, agonized, we wallow
On the blood-bemired sod;
And still the shiploads follow.
Have horses then no God?

4. A Winter Ride

       by Amy Lowell

Who shall declare the joy of the running!
Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

So with the stretch of the white road before me,
Shining snowcrystals rainbowed by the sun,
Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.
Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.

5. Rain and Wind

       by Madison Julius Cawein

I hear the hoofs of horses
Galloping over the hill,
Galloping on and galloping on,
When all the night is shrill
With wind and rain that beats the pane,
And my soul with awe is still.

For every dripping window
Their headlong rush makes bound,
Galloping up, and galloping by,
Then back again and around,
Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs,
And the draughty cellars sound.

And then I hear black horsemen
Hallooing in the night;
Hallooing and hallooing,
They ride o’er vale and height,
And the branches snap and the shutters clap
With the fury of their flight.

Then at each door a horseman,
With burly bearded lip
Hallooing through the keyhole,
Pauses with cloak a-drip;
And the door-knob shakes and the panel quakes
‘Neath the anger of his whip.

All night I hear their gallop,
And their wild halloo’s alarm;
The tree-tops sound and vanes go round
In forest and on farm;
But never a hair of a thing is there,
Only the wind and storm.

6. The Last Leap

       by Adam Lindsay Gordon

All is over! fleet career,
Dash of greyhound slipping thongs,
Flight of falcon, bound of deer,
Mad hoof-thunder in our rear,
Cold air rushing up our lungs,
Din of many tongues.
Once again, one struggle good,
One vain effort;—he must dwell
Near the shifted post, that stood
Where the splinters of the wood,
Lying in the torn tracks, tell
How he struck and fell.
Crest where cold drops beaded cling,
Small ear drooping, nostril full,
Glazing to a scarlet ring,
Flanks and haunches quivering,
Sinews stiffening, void and null,
Dumb eyes sorrowful.
Satin coat that seems to shine
Duller now, black braided tress
That a softer hand than mine
Far away was wont to twine,
That in meadows far from this
Softer lips might kiss.
All is over! this is death,
And I stand to watch thee die,
Brave old horse! with bated breath
Hardly drawn through tight-clenched teeth,
Lip indented deep, but eye
Only dull and dry.
Musing on the husk and chaff
Gathered where life’s tares are sown,
Thus I speak, and force a laugh,
That is half a sneer and half
An involuntary groan,
In a stifled tone—
‘Rest, old friend! thy day, though rife
With its toil, hath ended soon;
We have had our share of strife,
Tumblers in the masque of life,
In the pantomime of noon
Clown and pantaloon.
‘With a flash that ends thy pain,
Respite and oblivion blest
Come to greet thee. I in vain
Fall: I rise to fall again:
Thou hast fallen to thy rest—
And thy fall is best!’

7. A Canadian Trooper to His Horse

       by Helen Leah Reed

Rest here, my horse, the night is dull, – the blood-sick stars are gone,
Listen, for thou like me wert bred in far Saskatchewan.
And this September night at home, under a happier sky,
The bursting yellow sheaves upon the unbounded prairie lie.
Bread, bread – the staff and stay of life – ’tis what the wheatlands yield;
But only death and agony are gathered from this field.

There’s respite now, but ah! good friend, before another day,
Although our bodies may be here, we, we, how far away!
We’ve ridden many a weary mile, together we have fought
For Freedom, honor and the right, and anything we’ve wrought
Our Country to the Empire will still more closely bind.
Ah! where the reddened maple leaf is fluttering in the wind,
There is my heart, oh noble horse, and may we gallop free
Someday again in Canada, our Land of Liberty.

The night drags on toward the dawn, and far on yonder plain
I hear the throb of musketry, I feel its echoing pain.
I see the star-shells breaking, and nearer than their flare,
A wreath of deadly smoke points out that once a town was there.
Look, brother horse, the night is past, and glorious is the dawn,
Away with peril! We’ll ride on for our Saskatchewan.
With day comes hope, and though again the sky with blood is red,
We’ll ride against the enemy, for Victory lies ahead,
Aye! for the Empire – Victory that thou shalt help to bring.
And for the Allies Victory – on earth what greater thing!

8. Bolting

       by Mary Tourtel

See this runaway flecked with foam
Galloping fast as he can for home,
Caring nought for the shouting man
Running also as fast as he can.

Flung by the bolter on the roadside
Small is his chance of a pleasant ride.
Two legs matched in a race with four—
Perhaps they’ll meet at the stable door.

Final Thoughts

In conclusion, horse poems offer a unique and captivating way to appreciate the beauty and majesty of these magnificent animals.

From inspirational and sentimental to humorous and irreverent, there is a horse poem for every taste and occasion.

These horse poems can uplift and inspire us, reminding us of the strength and grace that horses embody.

Whether you are an experienced equestrian or simply appreciate the beauty of these majestic creatures, horse poems can offer a window into their world and spirit.

So gear up and explore the world of poems of horse, and discover the magic and wonder that these animals bring to our lives.

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