I spoke at last:
"Somehow Faith
Shines from your empty eye-holes,
And Truth
Speaks mutely from your fleshless jaws.
I choose your skeleton to lie with
In the peaceful bed of earth
Through all the dreamless, mornless, utter night!"

Poems of Elijah Hay

The Golden Stag

O hungry hearted ones, sharp-limbed, keen-eyed,
Let me have place!
I too would ride
On your fantastic chase.

Your hunger is a silver hunting horn,
I heard it sweep
The frozen, peaceful morn:
Its note bit me from sleep.

I will ride with you, hunters, even I,
Toward a far hill
To see the golden stag against the sky
Uncaptured still.

To Anne Knish