The Horse by William Shakespeare poem

I will not change my horse with any that treads...
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk,
He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches
"The barest horn of his hoof is more musical than
the pipe of Hermes...
He's of the color of the nutmeg and of the heat of
the ginger...
He is pure air and fire, and the dull elements
Of earth and water never appear in him,
But only in patient stillness his rider mounts him...
It is the prince of palfreys. His neigh is like
The bidding of a monarch, and his countenance
Enforces homage.