(1803, Eugène Isabey)
In a time past you held our every desire,
you carried our love and dreams far away,
brought back gifts and fantasies we never knew,
washed our land of evil and sang with us,
provided satisfying feasts and joyous rides,
upheld our existence as we travelled about,
glimmered with the moon as an evening duo,
understanding our needs to rest at night,
calmed often sunshine without storm,
those pleasant reminders of your benevolence,
that which we forgot as the time drew on,
with which you grew bored without attention,
slowly drawing away always looking back,
but as the final child departed your arms,
retreated you forever to find a new home.