How beautiful and perfect are the animals, moving serenely over the earth,
I stand and look at them long and long—
The fat-tail’d sheep, the antelope,  the prairie-dog, and the burrowing wolf,
Beasts of prey in their northerly wilds,
The sharp-hoof’d moose of the north,
The cat on the house-sill,
The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats.

The black bear is searching for roots or honey,
The elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
The snake slides through the creepers and logs,
The panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead.
In primitive woods the sounds there also sounding,
The howl of the wolf, the scream of the panther, and the hoarse bellow of the elk.

The moving flocks and herds,
Kine and horses feeding, flocks of goats feeding, and droves of sheep and swine,
Herds of buffalo grazing the plains, feeding on short curly grass, make a crawling spread of the square miles far and near.
The crowing of chanticleer in the barnyard, (with invariable responses from other barnyards,)
And the lowing of cattle—ever the immense herds of cattle,
Cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous shuddering of their bright hides,
See, the round bodies and broad backs,
How straight and square they stand on their legs—
The cow crunching the grass with depress’d head surpasses any statue.

Where the cock is treading the hen, where the stud to the mare,
The hirsute and strong-breasted bull advances to do his masculine work,
How handsome and bold he is.
The bullock’s head tosses restless high in the air with raging eyes,
What yearning expression! so lofty looking, what fine sagacious eyes,
Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life—
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses,
Head high in the forehead and wide between the ears,
Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
Eyes well apart and full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut and flexibly moving.
The saddle, the gallop, the pressure upon the seat, the cool gurgling by the ears and hair,
His nostrils dilate, my heels embrace him,
His well built limbs tremble with pleasure,
We speed around and return.

I but use you a moment and then I resign you stallion,
Why do I need your paces when I myself  out-gallop them,
And myself as I stand or sit pass faster than you?

The animals show their relations to me and I accept them,
I see in them and myself the same old law,
They bring me tokens of myself;
I wonder where they get those tokens,
Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?

I think I could turn and live awhile with animals,
They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth—
O for the satisfaction and aplomb of animals.

NEXT: TIMES OF THE DAY

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