My little Thracian filly shy?
Why turn askance
That cruel glance,
And think that such a dunce am I?
O I am blest with ample wit
To fix the bridle and the bit,
And make thee bend
Each turning-end
In harness all the course of it.
But now 'tis yet the meadow free
And frisking it with merry glee;
The master yet
Has not been met
To mount the car and manage thee.
Anacreon [or Anakreon] (c. 582 – 485 BC) Turkey (Ancient Greece)
Translated by Walter Headlam
Source: Poem of the Week
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