He twists the thong from off his poke; he swings it o'er his head; The nuggets fall around their feet like grain. They rattle over roof and wall; they scatter, roll and spread; The dust is like a shower of golden rain. The guests a moment stand aghast, then grovel on the floor; They fight, and snarl, and claw, like beasts of prey; And then, as everybody grabbed and everybody swore, The man from Eldorado slipped away. He's the man from Eldorado, and they found him stiff and dead, Half covered by the freezing ooze and dirt. A clotted Colt was in his hand, a hole was in his head, And he wore an old and oily buckskin shirt. His eyes were fixed and horrible, as one who hails the end; The frost had set him rigid as a log; And there, half lying on his breast, his last and only friend, There crouched and whined a mangy yellow dog. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AURENG-ZEBE, OR THE GREAT MOGUL: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE HIPPOPOTAMUS by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS HAWTHORNE by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT AD S. ANGELUM CUSTODEM by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ETHELWALD, FR. METRICAL HISTORY OF ST. CUTHBERT by BEDE THE WATCHMAN'S REPORT by JOHN BOWRING EPITAPH ON ONE DROWNED IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |