Remembering those horsemen riding -

Eyes front, the noses sometimes broken,

A chlamys billowed back –

With legs right against the flanks

Of animals which they are guiding,

Firm fearless force, towards some unspoken

Sacrifice. I track

Down fragment words of thanks.


Their sculptured youth’s serenity,

As hoofs rise, bodies almost mingling,

Their peace in action, caught,

Careless but solemn, daunts

Moods of softer marble, tells me,

Who, watchful, see them pass, that taut

Untranquil tangling

Senses ought

Now to be tamed,

As were these horses, wild once,

By this calm company

Of naked saints.