Coyotes whimper to the night ... Bats fly in whippet flight ... The meadow pales into white By the moon's shadow light. Hills of brush rim the sky ... A wounded doe left to die ... Crickets sing to hush her cry Bones bleached white and dry. Night is folded, put away ... The sun drags in another day ... Hounds start their hollow bay The hunter's gun must have its say. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMPTRESS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMOS SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NOTHING WILL CURE THE SICK LION BUT TO EAT AN APE' by MARIANNE MOORE SONNET (6) by GEORGE SANTAYANA ELEGY: THE LITTLE GHOST WHO DIED FOR LOVE; FOR ALLANAH HARPER by EDITH SITWELL |