What Delight
To back the flying steed 
That challenges the wind for speed. 
Seems native more of air than earth. 
Whose burden only lends him fire!
Whose soul, in his tack, turns labour into Sport.
He makes your pastime his. I sit him now!
He takes away my breath. He makes me real.
I touch not earth, 
I see not - hear not - all is an ecstasy of motion.

                       ~ James Sheridan Knowles