A COLD coiled line of mottled lead, He lies where grazing cattle tread, And lifts a fanged and spiteful head. His touch is deadly, and his eyes Are hot with hatred and surprise -- Death waits and watches where he lies! His hate is turned toward everything! He is the undisputed king Of every path and woodland spring. His naked fang is raised to smite All passing things; light Is not swifter than his bite. His touch is deadly, and his eyes Are hot with hatred and surprise -- Death waits and watches where he lies! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMEN AND ROSES by ROBERT BROWNING A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 4 by THOMAS CAMPION SONG FOR JULY 12TH, 1843 by JOHN DE JEAN FRAZER ACCIDENT IN ART by RICHARD HOVEY BALLAD: THE THINGS OF NO ACCOUNT by FRANCOIS VILLON |