Fearing faintly my horse would fall
I shovel-shayed all night
In the eerie equine light
Of my bed in the Temple of Baal.
O God, I could hardly breath
As the mare with the open mouth
Flinging her head to the south
Galloped and showed her teeth.
In the silence of my swoon
The vision so loud that it hurt
I cut the beast with my quirt
And arrived in England at noon.
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