Once in a saffron twilight, rich with the sound of bells,
In a dim meadow straying, high on the lonely fells,
I saw Pegasus, winged Pegasus, cropping the asphodels.
His neck was clothed with thunder, his feet with strength were shod;
Terrible in his beauty, he grazed on the starry sod,
A white, untameable beauty, a stallion fit for a god.
Meekly he ranged unfettered; his wings were wet with dew,
And where they trailed in the blossomy grass, a misty rainbow grew,
Those strong, exultant pinions that trample the windy blue.
Then suddenly he raised his head. I felt the pulsing beat
Of his valiant hoofs. He sprang on the track of the stars, unleashed and fleet.
was alone; but deep in the grass was the print of his deathless feet.