If life is a fox, are we the howling hound? <br />Forever chasing toward the greener hills <br />Down on the moors searching firmer ground <br />Hunting forward for those distant thrills <br /> <br />Over the stone walls of crooked lines <br />Fresh is the scent that was passed down <br />Through fields of mist there are no signs <br />Forging furrows as only the clock chimes <br /> <br />But the fox is wiley and oh so shrewd <br />He leads us on for miles and years <br />As the ages pass only memories intrude <br />While youth fades and time draws tears <br /> <br />Oh, the hunt grows harder as the sun sets <br />And the worn trail gets colder as we age <br />But the fox, he never slows nor forgets <br />As darkness falls on the lonely stage <br /> <br />So when the rusty bugle finally calls <br />The pack halts to the steely sound <br />But has the fox made a fool of us all? <br />For where is the fox and who is the hound?<br /><br />C.A. Morrow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fox-and-hound/
