His footprints have failed us,
Where berries are red,
And madroños are rankest,-
The hunter is dead!
The grizzly may pass
By his half-open door;
May pass and repass
On his path, as of yore;
The panther may crouch
In the leaves on his limb;
May scream and may scream,-
It is nothing to him.
Prone, bearded, and breasted
Like columns of stone;
And tall as a pine-
As a pine overthrown!
His camp-fires gone,
What else can be done
Than let him sleep on
Till the light of the sun?
Ay, tombless! what of it?
Marble is dust,
Cold and repellent;
And iron is rust.
Dead In The Sierras
Joaquin Miller
(1)
Poem topics: light, red, sleep, sun, door, cold, iron, hunter, dust, open, stone, scream, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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