Hard as hurdle arms, with a broth of goldish flue   
Breathed round; the rack of ribs; the scooped flank; lank   
Rope-over thigh; knee-nave; and barrelled shank—   
        Head and foot, shoulder and shank—   
By a grey eye’s heed steered well, one crew, fall to;           
Stand at stress. Each limb’s barrowy brawn, his thew   
That onewhere curded, onewhere sucked or sank—   
            Soared or sank—,   
Though as a beechbole firm, finds his, as at a roll-call, rank   
And features, in flesh, what deed he each must do—   
        His sinew-service where do.   
   
He leans to it, Harry bends, look. Back, elbow, and liquid waist   
In him, all quail to the wallowing o’ the plough: ’s cheek crimsons; curls   
Wag or crossbridle, in a wind lifted, windlaced—   
        See his wind- lilylocks -laced;    
Churlsgrace, too, child of Amansstrength, how it hangs or hurls   
Them—broad in bluff hide his frowning feet lashed! raced   
With, along them, cragiron under and cold furls—   
        With-a-fountain’s shining-shot furls.