Right Royal by Masefield, John, 1878-1967

His great crest glittered as he looked at me Criniered with spitting sparks; he stamped the ground All cock and fire, trembling like a hound, And glad of me, and eager to declare His horse's mind.

And I was made aware That, being a horse, his mind could only say Few things to me. He said, 'It is my day, My day, to-day; I shall not have another.'

And as he spoke he seemed a younger brother Most near, and yet a horse, and then he grinned And tossed his crest and crinier to the wind And looked down to the Water with an eye All fire of soul to gallop dreadfully.

All this was strange, but then a stranger thing Came afterwards. I woke all shivering With wonder and excitement, yet with dread Lest the dream meant that Royal should be dead, Lest he had died and come to tell me so. I hurried out; no need to hurry, though; There he was shining like a morning star. Now hark. You know how cold his manners are, Never a whinny for his dearest friend. To-day he heard me at the courtyard end, He left his breakfast with a shattering call, A View Halloo, and, swinging in his stall, Ran up to nuzzle me with signs of joy. It staggered Harding and the stable-boy. And Harding said, 'What's come to him to-day? He must have had a dream he beat the bay.'

Now that was strange; and, what was stranger, this. I know he tried to say those words of his, 'It is my day'; and Harding turned to me, 'It is his day to-day, that's plain to see.' Right Royal nuzzled at me as he spoke. That staggered me. I felt that I should choke. It came so pat upon my unsaid thought, I asked him what he meant. He answered 'Naught. It only came into my head to say. But there it is. To-day's Right Royal's day.'

That was the dream. I cannot put the glory With which it filled my being, in a story. No one can tell a dream. Now to confess. The dream made daily life a nothingness, Merely a mould which white-hot beauty fills, Pure from some source of passionate joys and skills. And being flooded with my vision thus, Certain of winning, puffed and glorious, Walking upon this earth-top like a king, My judgment went. I did a foolish thing, I backed myself to win with all I had.

Now that it's done I see that it was mad, But still, I had to do it, feeling so. That is the full confession; now you know."

SHE The thing is done, and being done, must be. You cannot hedge. Would you had talked with me Before you plunged. But there, the thing is done.

HE Do not exaggerate the risks I run. Right Royal was a bad horse in the past, A rogue, a cur, but he is cured at last; For I was right, his former owner wrong, He is a game good chaser going strong. He and my lucky star may pull me through.

SHE O grant they may; but think what's racing you, Think for a moment what his chances are Against Sir Lopez, Soyland, Kubbadar.

HE You said you thought Sir Lopez past his best. I do, myself.