 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
57
HOUNDS OF FATE.
The Spaniards trained their bloodhounds once to play
A fearful part in battle, and to track
The Indians in the swamps where they fell back;
And every hound received a soldier's pay.
A fearful part in battle, and to track
The Indians in the swamps where they fell back;
And every hound received a soldier's pay.
Sooner or later, where the Indians lay,
Hiding their last red gold from screw and rack,
Scenting men's flesh, appeared the Cuban pack
And filled the forest with their booming bay.
Hiding their last red gold from screw and rack,
Scenting men's flesh, appeared the Cuban pack
And filled the forest with their booming bay.
And so the hounds of Fate have hunted down
The luckless owners of the virgin gold
Which we call Genius, since the world began;
The luckless owners of the virgin gold
Which we call Genius, since the world began;
Save that the hunted Indians are unknown,
While poet and discoverer are enrolled
In bitter glory on the Book of Man.
While poet and discoverer are enrolled
In bitter glory on the Book of Man.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |