In the Early Dawn
A Stallion White
Prances the Hills
In the Morning Light
His Bridle Is Painted
With Thunder and Gold
Orchids and Dragons
Pale Knights of Old
He´s the Horse of the Ages Past.

And Now the Children Run
To See the Stallion On the Hill
Bringing Bags of Apples
And of Clover They Have Filled
And the White Horse
Tells His Stories
Of the Days
Now Passed and Gone
And the Children Stand
A-wondering
Believing
Every Song
How Brightly Glows the Past.

When the Sun Is High
Comes a Mare So Red
A-trampling the Graves
Of the Living and Dead
Her Mantle Is Heavy
With Mirrors and Glass
All Is Reflected
When the Red Mare Does Pass
She´s the Horse of the Here and Now.

And Now There Is Confusion
´mongst the Children On the Hill
They Cling to One Another
And no Longer Can Be Still
While the Red Mare´s
Voice Is Trembling
With a Rare and
Mighty Call
The Children
Start Remembering
The Bearers
And the The Pall
And Though Their
Many-colored Sweaters
Are Reflecting
In the Glass
And Though the Sun
Shines Down Upon Them
They Are Frightened
In the Grass
How Stark Is the Here and Now.

When the Night Does Fall
Comes a Stallion Black
So Proud and Tall
He Never Looks Back
He Wears Him no Emaralds
Silver Or Gold
Not Even a Covering
To Keep Him From Cold
He´s the Horse of the Years to Come.

And I Will Get Me Down
Before This Steed Upon My Knees
And Sing to Him the Sorrows
Of a Thousand Centuries
And the Children
Now Will Scatter
As Their Mothers
Call Them Home
For the Sadness
Of the Evening Horse
No Child
Has Ever Known
And I Will
Hang About Him
A Bell That´s
Never Rung
And Thank Him
For the Many Words
Which From His Throat
Have Never Sprung
And I´ll Thank God
And All the Angels
That the Stallion
Of the Evening
The Black Horse
Of the Future
Comes to Earth But Has no Tongue.