Poor little Foal of an oppressed race! <br />I love the languid patience of thy face: <br />And oft with gentle hand I give thee bread, <br />And clap thy ragged coat, and pat thy head. <br />But what thy dulled spirits hath dismay'd, <br />That never thou dost sport along the glade? <br />And (most unlike the nature of things young) <br />That earthward still thy moveless head is hung? <br />Do thy prophetic fears anticipate, <br />Meek Child of Misery! thy future fate? <br />The starving meal, and all the thousand aches <br />'Which patient Merit of the Unworthy takes'? <br />Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain <br />To see thy wretched mother's shorten’d chain? <br />And truly, very piteous is her lot-- <br />Chain'd to a log within a narrow spot, <br />Where the close-eaten grass is scarcely seen, <br />While sweet around her waves the tempting green! <br /> <br />Poor Ass! they master should have learnt to show <br />Pity -- best taught by fellowship of Woe! <br />For much I fear me that He lives like thee, <br />Half famished in a land of Luxury! <br />How askingly its footsteps hither bend? <br />It seems to say, 'And have I then one friend?' <br />Innocent foal! thou poor despis'd forlorn! <br />I hail thee Brother -- spite of the fool's scorn! <br />And fain would take thee with me, in the Dell <br />Of Peace and mild Equality to dwell, <br />Where Toil shall call the charmer Health his bride, <br />And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side! <br />How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play, <br />And frisk about, as lamb or kitten gay! <br />Yea! and more musically sweet to me <br />Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be, <br />Than warbled melodies that soothe to rest <br />The aching of pale Fashion's vacant breast!<br /><br />Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-young-ass-its-mother-being-tethered-near-it/
