| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 716. Comrades |
| | | By Henry Ames Blood |
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| ONE steed I have of common clay, | |
| And one no less than regal; | |
| By day I jog on old Saddlebags, | |
| By night I fly upon Eagle: | |
| To store, to market, to field, to mill, | 5 |
| One plods with patient patter, | |
| Nor hears along the far-off heights | |
| The hoofs of his comrade clatter. | |
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| To field, to market, to mill he goes, | |
| Nor sees his comrade gleaming | 10 |
| Where he flies along the purple hills, | |
| Nor the flame from his bridle streaming; | |
| Sees not his track, nor the sparks of fire | |
| So terribly flashing from it, | |
| As they flashed from the track of Alborak | 15 |
| When he bravely carried Mahomet. | |
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| One steed, in a few short years, will rest | |
| Under the grasses yonder; | |
| The other will come there centuries hence | |
| To linger and dream and ponder; | 20 |
| And yet both steeds are mine to-day, | |
| The immortal and the mortal: | |
| One beats alone the clods of earth, | |
| One stamps at heaven’s portal. | |
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