Gulliver among the Houyhnhnms

When the fields were fenced off, the Houyhnhnms 

heard bands playing, patriot shouts; the land, it was said, 

would return to its rightful owners.

Flags flew from accustomed poles and were waved 

by those who erected fences; the iron wheels 

of steam engines pounded the streets in triumph. 

But investment went elsewhere. Centres of learning  

saw their horizons shrink; there was talk everywhere 

of rupture, of secession. New managers were appointed 

to govern the farms, on which weeds flourished 

– nightshade and prejudice, ragwort. The price of grass 

as it festered in airless barns went through the roof. 

The hospitals promised would not now materialise.  

Gulliver’s wound would not heal. He’d remain 

with the Houyhnhnms, work to dismantle fences.