ALL wounded sore he lay upon my path, His piteous moans his woeful need confessed; I stooped to find his hurt with searching hand— A poisoned arrow pierced his panting breast. He had a friend who dwelt beside the way, And, running swift, I called to him for aid: "Your comrade lies all wounded to his death; Some secret foe a havoc here has made." Deaf to my call, I saw him crouch and creep, Screened in a laurel's shade, the leaves among He moved to pry and peer and pry again— Within his hand he held a bow unstrung. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE ON THE DEATH OF A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB by THOMAS GRAY INDIFFERENCE by GEOFFREY ANKETELL STUDDERT-KENNEDY A BRIDGE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE PROPHET by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN NIMROD: 1 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH PILLAR WORK by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON BEETHOVEN by ETHEL TONRY CARPENTER |