In the early dawn a stallion white
Prances the hills in the morning light
His bridle is painted with thunder and gold
Orchids and dragons, pale knights of old
He is the horse of the ages past
And now the children run to see
The stallion on the hill
Bringing bags of apples
And of clover they have filled
And the white horse tells his stories
Of the days now past and gone
And the children stand a-wondering
Believing every song
How brightly glows the past

When the sun is high comes a mare so red
Trampling the graves of the living and dead
Her mantle is heavy with mirrors and glass
All is reflected when the red mare does pass
She is the horse of the here and now
And now there is confusion
Amongst the children on the hill
They cling to one another
And no longer can be still
While the red mare's voice is trembling
With a rare and mighty call
The children start remembering
The bearers and the pall
And though their many-colored sweaters
Are reflected in the glass
And though the sun shines down upon them
They are frightened in the grass
How stark is the here and now
When night does fall comes a stallion black
So proud and tall he never looks back
He wears him no emeralds, silver and gold
Not even a covering to keep him from cold
He is the horse of the years to come
And I will get me down
Before this steed upon my knees
And sing to him the sorrows
Of a thousand centuries
And the children now will scatter
As their mothers call them home
For the sadness of the evening horse
No child has ever known
And I will hang about him
A bell that's never rung
And thank him for the many words
Which from his throat have never sprung
And I'll thank God and all the angels
That the stallion of the evening
The black horse of the future
Comes to earth but has no tongue