If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have,
He will come to you when you call-
Come to you over the far, dim pastures of death,
And though you ride other, living horses through life, they shall not shy at him, nor resent his coming.
For he is yours and he belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall,
Who hear no nicker pitched too fine for insensitive ears.
People who never really love a horse.
Smile at them then, for you shall know some thing that is hidden from them,
And which is well worth knowing.

The only place to bury a horse is in the heart of his master