The Zebras

From the dark woods that breathe of fallen showers,
Harnessed with level rays in golden reins,
The zebras draw the dawn across the plains
Wading knee-deep among the scarlet¹ flowers.
The sunlight, zithering their flanks with fire,
Flashes between the shadows as they pass
Barred with electric tremors² through the grass
Like wind along the gold strings³ of a lyre.
Into the flushed air snorting rosy⁴ plumes
That smoulder round their feet in drifting fumes,
With dove-like voices call the distant fillies,
While round the herds⁵ the stallion wheels his flight,
Engine of beauty volted with delight,
To roll his mare⁶ among the trampled⁷ lilies.