Waiting

Waiting

CONFUCIUS

AITING for master to come down the stair,
Are “Noble” and “Floss,” and his favorite mare—
“Brenda” the gentle, with skin soft and gray,
Waiting the signal, “Now off and away.”

Noble stands holding the whip and the rein,
His gaze fixed on Brenda, who tosses her mane;
While dear little Floss sits quietly by,
Winking and blinking her liquid brown eye.

Master's so kind to them—nothing to fear
Have horse or dogs when his footsteps they hear;
Look how they're waiting with eagerness there,
Ready to go with him everywhere.

And what a pleasure it is when these three
There on the staircase their kind master see;
Now he is mounted, the waiting is o'er—
Floss, Brenda, and Noble race off from the door.