Big Red

I found it!  I finally found it!

And what did I find, you may ask?  Well, I'll tell you.  Back when I was a child, I'd read a book about  Man-O-War.  The racehorse, not the battleship or the jelly fish.  In the back of a book was a poem that had been written about him.  I'd looked for years and years for that poem, searching the internet diligently — to no avail.

A few days ago, I tried again, and lo and behold, someone had posted it on their social media page.   Here, for your enjoyment, but mostly so I can have a copy where I know I can find it again, is the poem.  

"Big Red"  

by Joseph Alvie Estes, first published October 23, 1937:

The days are long at Belmont. 
Speed they never learn. 
And it's many a day since Man o' War 
Has looped the upper turn. 

The guineas stopped their rubbing,
The rider dropped his tack 
When the word went round that Man o' War 
Was coming on the track. 

The crowd was hoarse with cheering 
At ancient Pimlico
The day he won the Preakness-
But that was long ago. 

The dust is deep at Windsor,
The good old days are gone.
And many a horse is forgotten,
But they still remember one. 

For he was a fiery phantom
To that multitudinous throng-
Would you wait for another one like him?
Be patient: years are long. 

For here was a horse among horses,
Cast in a Titan's mold,
And the slant October sunlight
Gilded the living gold. 

He was marked with the god's own giving
And winged in every part;
The look of eagles was in his eye
And Hastings' wrath in his heart. 

Young Equipoise had power
To rouse the crowded stand,
And there was magic in the name
Of Greentree's Twenty Grand. 

And Sarazen has sprinted,
And Gallant Fox has stayed,
And Discovery has glittered 
In the wake of Cavalcade. 

We watch the heroes parading,
We wait, and our eyes are dim,
But we never discover another
Like him. 

A foal is born at midnight
And in the frosty morn
The horseman eyes him fondly
And a secret hope is born. 

But breathe it not, nor whisper,
For fear of a neighbor's scorn:
He's a chestnut colt, and he's got a star-
He may be another Man o' War. 

Nay, say it aloud--be shameless.
Dream and hope and yearn,
For there's never a man among you
But waits for his return.