Great valiant horse with wild unfettered heart
by Alta Smith
Bow not to man.
You're meant to be a part of that great land,
That desert where you roam.
You're master there, and there should be your home.
You toss your mighty head, your nostrils flare,
You fling your ringing challenge through the air.
A fiery thing of beauty and of strength,
You claim your ground distinctly, then at length
You are gone with such an ease
As smoke upon the rising desert breeze.
Across the high, wild desert land you race
With nothing but an eagle keeping pace.
Rush out of sight, you king of all you see.
Far better gone, than live and not be free.