Of man and beast and nature's pride, <br />There is no place its prey can hide. <br /> <br />Of night scopes made by man's design, <br />No hunter's lens is quite so fine. <br /> <br />No stealthy native's step or stride <br />Can match his gentle walk and glide. <br /> <br />No patient man can wait so long <br />In nature's world where they belong. <br /> <br />It's not the large or brutish beast <br />Who could secure his common feast. <br /> <br />Through quickness, guile, and patient wait; <br />No prey escapes his paws of fate. <br /> <br />And no one would or could now say, <br />What prey he might put on display, <br /> <br />In mounted form, in this my den; <br />The only place he's gentle in. <br /> <br />And this is where you knew he'd be <br />Sitting here right next to me. <br /> <br />While I caress his wondrous fur, <br />And hear again his loving purr.<br /><br />GREENWOLFE 1962<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hunter-4/
