HP-1: The horses paw and prance and neigh, Fillies and colts like kittens play, And dance and toss their rippled manes Shining and soft as silken skeins;...~Oliver Wendell Holmes
HP-2: A thousand horse and none to ride! -
With flowing tail, and flying mane,
Wide nostrils never stretched by pain,
Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscarred by spur or rod,
A thousand horse, the wild, the free,
Like waves that follow o'er the sea,
Came thickly thundering on,...
~Lord Byron, XVII, Mazeppa, 1818
HP-3: Look back at our struggle for freedom,
Trace our present day's strength to it's source;
And you'll find that man's pathway to glory
Is strewn with the bones of the horse.
HP-4: Somewhere in time's own space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again.
HP-5: My horse's feet are as swift as rolling thunder
He carries me away from all my fears
And when the world threatens to fall asunder
His mane is there to wipe away my tears.
HP-6: The hooves of horses!
Oh! witching and sweet
Is the music earth steals from the iron-shod feet;
No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird,
Can stir me as much as hooves of horses
~Will H. Ogilvie
HP-7: You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.
You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
You are the guy who'll decide where to go.
HP-8: If I could catch a rainbow
I would do it just for you
And share with you its beauty
On the days you are feeling blue
If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own
A place to find serenity
A place to be alone
If I could take your troubles
I would toss them in the sea
But all these things I am finding
Are impossible for me
I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair
But let me be what I know best
A friend that's always there
HP-9: What delight
To back the flying steed, that challenges
The wind for speed! - seems native more of air
Than earth! - whose burden only lends him fire! -
Whose soul, in his task, turns labour into sport;
Who makes your pastime his! I sit him now!
He takes away my breath! He makes me reel!
I touch not earth - I see not - hear not. All
Is ecstasy of motion!
~James Sheridan Knowles, The Love-Chase