Alexander Lawrence Posey

On Viewing the Skull and Bones of a Wolf

How savage, fierce and grim!
     His bones are bleached and white. 
But what is death to him? 
     He grins as if to bite. 
He mocks the fate 
     That bade, '‘Begone.'' 
There’s fierceness stamped 
     In ev’ry bone. 

Let silence settle from the midnight sky— 
Such silence as you’ve broken with your cry; 
The bleak wind howl, unto the ut’most verge 
Of this mighty waste, thy fitting dirge.