A Seminole died with the sun in the west, White Heron wailed to the Moon's white crest, A cinnamon skin lay paled till the blush Of a muck smoked sun rose warm and lush On a tangled path to a Cypress rest. Within her wilted heart was vest A stoic power, an Indian test, And none would know by the evening hush A Seminole died. She asked no God to call him blest, As she laid him bare to the swamp's incest, And kindled his gig and his gun with brush, Then hurried back to communal mush And bronze hands, unaware that pulled at her breast -- A Seminole died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN SPOT SIX DIFFERENCES by MARVIN BELL MY HUT; AFTER TRAN QUANG KHAI by HAYDEN CARRUTH AN EVANGELIST'S WIFE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON FIFTH AVENUE-SPRING AFTERNOON by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |