Episode 39: Pegasus in Pound

PEGASUS IN POUND
by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

 Once into a quiet village,
  Without haste and without heed,
In the golden prime of morning,
  Strayed the poet’s wingèd steed.

 . . . .

Loud the clamorous bell was ringing
  From its belfry gaunt and grim;
‘Twas the daily call to labor,
  Not a triumph meant for him.

 . . . .

Thus, upon the village common,
  By the school-boys he was found;
And the wise men, in their wisdom,
  Put him straightway into pound.

Then the sombre village crier,
  Ringing loud his brazen bell,
Wandered down the street proclaiming
  There was an estray to sell.

And the curious country people,
  Rich and poor, and young and old,
Came in haste to see this wondrous
  Wingèd steed, with mane of gold.

Thus the day passed, and the evening
  Fell, with vapors cold and dim;
But it brought no food nor shelter,
  Brought no straw or stall, for him.

Patiently, and still expectant,
  Looked he through the wooden bars,
Saw the moon rise o’er the landscape,
  Saw the tranquil, patient stars;

Till at length the bell at midnight
  Sounded from its dark abode,
And, from out a neighboring farm-yard,
  Loud the cock Alectryon crowed.

Then, with nostrils wide distended,
  Breaking from his iron chain,
And unfolding far his pinions,
  To those stars he soared again.

On the morrow, when the village
Woke to all its toil and care,
Lo! the strange steed had departed,
  And they knew not when or where.

But they found, upon the greensward
  Where his struggling hoofs had trod,
Pure and bright, a fountain flowing
  From the hoof-marks in the sod.

From that hour, the fount unfailing
  Gladdens the whole region round,
Strengthening all who drink its waters,
  While it soothes them with its sound.