When the horse rears up to canter
Off to war, he smells the battle
From afar and hears the shouting
And the thunder of the captains.
On him rattle the quiver, the
Flashing spear and the javelin and,
With fierceness, he swallows the ground.

And on November’s darkening
Day we place beside the wall our
Tokens of remembrance. Not all
Are poppies – nor are red. Some are
Exotic blooms from far away
Where camels served or pigeons flew.

Along Park Lane the traffic slows
And someone puts beside the wall,
A carrot, should the horse return.