HIS footprints have failed us, Where berries are red, And madronos are rankest, -- The hunter is dead! The grizzly may pass By his half-open door; May pass and repass On his path, as of yore; The panther may crouch In the leaves on his limb; May scream and may scream, -- It is nothing to him. Prone, bearded, and breasted Like columns of stone; And tall as a pine -- As a pine overthrown! His camp-fires gone, What else can be done Than let him sleep on Till the light of the sun? Ay, tombless! what of it? Marble is dust, Cold and repellent; And iron is rust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG TO THE MEN OF ENGLAND by THOMAS CAMPBELL CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWN SCRIVEYN by GEOFFREY CHAUCER ONCE BEFORE by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE A COAT by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS MY SOLITUDE by JAMES R. AGGELES THE GLORIOUS GIFT OF GOD by BENJAMIN BEDDOME |