AN OLD HORSE'S APPEAL.

I'm a poor old gray horse whom somebody owns, That I'm sadly neglected you will see by my bones; I wish some one would buy me—I wish I were sold To a man with a heart, for I'm feeble and old. Every fifth day of the week I come to the mart, And stand tethered and tied to my dirty old cart, While my master in ease at the public-house table, Denies me shelter, and food, and stable. I'm possessed of some virtues which in him you'll not find, I am docile and patient, I am gentle and kind; My acts are instinctive; his the proof of a mind; But if I've no reason, his is certainly blind. I know 'tis his haste to accumulate pelf, I know 'tis the thought of his miserable self. I know 'tis his love and grasp after greed That makes him forget he's a Christian in creed. I am tied with no shelter for hours together, No matter the wind, no matter the weather; You may judge how I suffer, think of my pain, For I am cold, I am sodden, I'm dripping with rain. Sometimes in the snow, sometimes in the sleet; You may see me uncared for, exposed in the street Without water to drink, without morsel to eat. I stand close to the hall where the magistrates meet, I am equally close to the justices' seat; But because I've no wound on my body or head I may stand till I'm stunned, I may stand till I'm dead. O friends of humanity! friends of the brute! Bestow on me pity. Though by nature I'm mute, I'm a creature of God—deny it who can— And have feelings as keen and as strong as a man.