 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
SLAIN.
There, where the foul birds
Heavily hover,
Where the gaunt grey wolf
Creeps to his cover,
Where with loud cawing
Crows come unbidden,
Deep in the woodland
Something is hidden.
Heavily hover,
Where the gaunt grey wolf
Creeps to his cover,
309
Crows come unbidden,
Deep in the woodland
Something is hidden.
What lies in covert—
Brutal or human,
Breathing or breathless,
Man, or a woman?
Lifeless and livid,
Ghastly and horrid,
Ball-mark and gore-clot
On the white forehead.
Brutal or human,
Breathing or breathless,
Man, or a woman?
Lifeless and livid,
Ghastly and horrid,
Ball-mark and gore-clot
On the white forehead.
Did a fierce foeman
Meet him in strife here?
Was it his own hand
Ended his life here?
Foe's work or self work,
Life is concluded—
Dead! but the murder
No one knows who did.
Meet him in strife here?
Was it his own hand
Ended his life here?
Foe's work or self work,
Life is concluded—
Dead! but the murder
No one knows who did.
Ha! where yon lizard
Hurriedly crosses,
Two kinds of footprints
Dent the deep mosses;
Broken low branches
Lie there around him;
Crushed is the herbage
There where they found him.
Hurriedly crosses,
Two kinds of footprints
Dent the deep mosses;
Broken low branches
Lie there around him;
Crushed is the herbage
There where they found him.
Here a revolver
Found the coarse grass in,
Dropped in his fleeing
By the assassin.
No! Every chamber
Heavily loaded,
Bullets and powder—
Not one exploded.
Found the coarse grass in,
Dropped in his fleeing
By the assassin.
310
Heavily loaded,
Bullets and powder—
Not one exploded.
See if those footprints
Tidings may render:
One is a woman's,
Shapely and slender.
Was, then, the slaying
By her or for her—
Doer or witness
Of the black horror?
Tidings may render:
One is a woman's,
Shapely and slender.
Was, then, the slaying
By her or for her—
Doer or witness
Of the black horror?
Strange is his figure,
Stranger his face is;
Name or whence coming,
Naught on him traces,
High-born or low-born,
Married or wifeless;
All that we know is—
There he lies lifeless.
Stranger his face is;
Name or whence coming,
Naught on him traces,
High-born or low-born,
Married or wifeless;
All that we know is—
There he lies lifeless.
Ever the hemlocks
Mournfully drooping,
Ever the fir-trees
Sorrowful stooping,
Ever the laurels,
Gnarled and low-growing,
Keep the dread secret
Hid from our knowing.
Mournfully drooping,
Ever the fir-trees
Sorrowful stooping,
Ever the laurels,
Gnarled and low-growing,
Keep the dread secret
Hid from our knowing.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |