To My Mouse-Colored Mare

No spur or whiplash needed now,
Is there, darling mouse-and-pink?
They're good for prodding some old cow,
But not my gray little mare, I think.

No bridle for that poor mouth of yours:
My love's enough, and my helpful thigh.
I'll put no stirrup, no saddle on:
Just a touch of my boot, and off you fly
On your prettily steel-shod booves. (Of course,
I'm not a fussy equestrian.)

Whoops! We're off on the dusty track!
My head's lost in your mane somewhere,
My arms are a circlet for your neck.
Whoops! We took that hedge for fair!

Whoopsl We're over the hurdle now!
Stay under me, my head's awhirl-
Whoops! and there's the ditch below.
We're arsy-varsy! ... Hold it, girl!