From "Pegasus in Pound"

Melete, Mneme, and Aoede (the Three Muses)

Once into a quiet village, without haste and without heed,

In the golden prime of morning, strayed the poet's winged steed.
Thus, upon the village common, by the school-boys he was found;

And the wise men, in their wisdom, put him straightway into pound.

Then the sombre village crier, ringing loud his brazen bell,

Wandered down the street proclaiming there was an estray to sell.
And the curious country people, rich and poor, and young and old,

Came in haste to see this wondrous winged steed, with mane of gold.
Patiently, and still expectant,Looked he through the wooden bars,

Saw the moon rise o'er the landscape, saw the tranquil, patient stars;
Then, with nostrils wide distended, breaking from his iron chain,

And unfolding far his pinions, to those stars he soared again.
On the morrow, when the village woke to all its toil and care,

Lo! the strange steed had departed, and they knew not when nor where.
But they found, upon the greensward where his straggling hoofs had trod,

Pure and bright, a fountain flowing from the hoof-marks in the sod.
From that hour, the fount unfailing gladdens the whole region round,

Strengthening all who drink its waters,While it soothes them with its sound.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow