Author Richard Henry Dana Lee cannot turn. There is a force In that fixed eye, which holds him fast. How still they stand,—the man and Horse! “Thine hour is almost past.”“O, spare me,” cries the wretch, “thou fearful One!”“The time is come,—I must not go alone.” Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments