Three Horses

In the early dawn a stallion white

Prances the hills in the morning light

His bridle is painted with thunder and gold

Orchids and dragons, pale knights of old

He is the horse of the ages past

And now the children run to see

The stallion on the hill

Bringing bags of apples

And of clover they have filled

And the white horse tells his stories

Of the days now past and gone

And the children stand a-wondering

Believing every song

How brightly glows the past

When the sun is high comes a mare so red

Trampling the graves of the living and dead

Her mantle is heavy with mirrors and glass

All is reflected when the red mare does pass

She is the horse of the here and now

And now there is confusion

Amongst the children on the hill

They cling to one another

And no longer can be still

While the red mare's voice is trembling

With a rare and mighty call

The children start remembering

The bearers and the pall

And though their many-colored sweaters

Are reflected in the glass

And though the sun shines down upon them

They are frightened in the grass

How stark is the here and now

When night does fall comes a stallion black

So proud and tall he never looks back

He wears him no emeralds, silver and gold

Not even a covering to keep him from cold

He is the horse of the years to come

And I will get me down

Before this steed upon my knees

And sing to him the sorrows

Of a thousand centuries

And the children now will scatter

As their mothers call them home

For the sadness of the evening horse

No child has ever known

And I will hang about him

A bell that's never rung

And thank him for the many words

Which from his throat have never sprung

And I'll thank God and all the angels

That the stallion of the evening

The black horse of the future

Comes to earth but has no tongue