Where the mares have fed in high pastures
The grass is cropped smooth to the sod
Hung upon the slopes. The slant herbage of the clouds
Have fed their hunger, and nourished the stirring foals
Doubled in swollen bodies.
Longer is day upon the hills, tenderer the grasses,
Stronger the winds that toss uncurried manes
Above the ridge and hollow.
Higher upon the earth
And free when the foals are straining
Toward these green hills islanded with sky and birth.