Author Jethro Bithell Wind themselves around my lance severe. Through white woods of liliesSnorts my stallion.Out of emerald lakes, Reeds in hair, Slender, veilless virgins rise.I ride as I were bronze.Ever, Hard before me,Flies the Phœnix bird, 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