Up came the young Centaur-colts from the plains they were <br />fathered in-- <br />Curious, awkward, afraid. <br />Burrs on their hocks and their tails, they were branded and gathered in <br />Mobs and run up to the yard to be made. <br /> <br />Starting and shying at straws, with sidlings and plungings, <br />Buckings and whirlings and bolts; <br />Greener than grass, but full-ripe for their bridling and lungings, <br />Up to the yards and to Chiron they bustled the colts... <br /> <br />First the light web and the cavesson; then the linked keys <br />To jingle and turn on the tongue. Then, with cocked ears, <br />The hours of watching and envy, while comrades at ease <br />Passaged and backed, making naught of these terrible gears. <br /> <br />Next, over-pride and its price at the low-seeming fence <br />Too oft and too easily taken -- the world-beheld fall! <br />And none in the yard except Chiron to doubt the immense, <br />Irretrievable shame of it all!... <br /> <br />Last, the trained squadron, full-charge -- the sound of a going <br />Through dust and spun clods, and strong kicks, pelted in as <br />they went, <br />And repaid at top-speed; till the order to halt without slowing <br />Showed every colt on his haunches--and Chiron content!<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-centaurs/
