We who have watched the hounds of morning run Across the hills and strangely disappear Into the pastures of oblivion, Their baying lost to the pursuing ear, We who have watched the hounds are left to wonder What splendid quarry theirs, what eager chase, What cry of triumph and what answering thunder Shall urge their flying feet to quickened pace? The sun drops softly . . . and the day, forlorn, Numbers its moments with but few to spare; From far the echo of a huntsman's horn Challenges mind and heart to hasten where The hounds of evening wander in full cry Beneath the shadow of a darkening sky. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: FLETCHER MCGEE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PORTRAIT OF ONE DEAD by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE FLOWER BOAT by ROBERT FROST NOTES FOR THE FIRST LINE OF A SPANISH POEM by JAMES GALVIN DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |