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

Hes 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 passed 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

A-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

Shes the horse of the here and now.



And now there is confusion

mongst the children on the hill

They cling to one another

And no longer can be still

While the red mares

Voice is trembling

With a rare and

Mighty call

The children

Start remembering

The bearers

And the the pall

And though their

Many-colored sweaters

Are reflecting

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 the night does fall

Comes a stallion black

So proud and tall

He never looks back

He wears him no emaralds

Silver or gold

Not even a covering

To keep him from cold

Hes 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 thats

Never rung

And thank him

For the many words

Which from his throat

Have never sprung

And Ill 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.



Joan Baez

Copyright 1971 by Chandos Music

ASCAP 7:03