A traveler and a companion stop at a mountain pasture just as the year’s first snow begins to fall. There they notice a young Morgan colt balanced on a stone wall, one forefoot up, and it snorts before bolting into the falling flakes. They glimpse it dimly, like a shadow. The speaker reads the animal’s behavior as real fear rather than play: the colt is not used to winter and seems to be running from the snow itself. He imagines even its mother couldn’t reassure it that this is only weather. Then the colt returns, scrambles onto the wall with wild-looking eyes and tail raised, shuddering as though shaking off flies. The speaker’s sympathy sharpens into a gentle rebuke: someone left the little horse out too late and should bring it inside. The mood is tender, watchful, and quietly anxious.
The Runaway — Summary
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall, We stopped by a mountain pasture to say, ‘Whose colt?’ A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall, The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt. We heard the miniature thunder where he fled, And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey, Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes. ‘I think the little fellow’s afraid of the snow. He isn’t winter-broken. It isn’t play With the little fellow at all. He’s running away. I doubt if even his mother could tell him, “Sakes, It’s only weather.” He’d think she didn’t know! Where is his mother? He can’t be out alone.’ And now he comes again with clatter of stone, And mounts the wall again with whited eyes And all his tail that isn’t hair up straight. He shudders his coat as if to throw off flies. ‘Whoever it is that leaves him out so late, When other creatures have gone to stall and bin, Ought to be told to come and take him in.’