How savage, fierce and grim! His bones are bleached and white. But what is death to him? He grins as if to bite. He mocks the fate That bade, ''Begone.'' There's fierceness stamped In ev'ry bone. Let silence settle from the midnight sky— Such silence as you've broken with your cry; The bleak wind howl, unto the ut'most verge Of this mighty waste, thy fitting dirge.
To Yahola, On His First Birthday
The sky has put her bluest garment on,
And gently brushed the snowy clouds away;
The robin trills a sweeter melody,
Because you are just one year old today.
The wind remembers, in his sweet refrains,
Away, away up in the tossing trees,
That you came in the world a year ago,
And earth is filled with pleasant harmonies,
And all things seem to say,
“Just one year old today.”