Poems (Hoffman)/The Coyote

by Martha Lavinia Hoffman

THE COYOTE

Forth from his lonely haunt,
Lean, evil-eyed and gaunt
 Stealthily stealing
To where on low chemise
Hang tattered shreds of fleece
Guiding to where in peace
 The flocks are kneeling.

Crackling of underbrush
Breaks on the forest's hush
 Some wanderer telling,
Then on the startled ear
Far off and then more near
Sounds forth distinct and clear
 A hideous yelling.

Haste little lambs and flee,
Quick comes an enemy
 Reckless with hunger,
Lean are his ugly jaws,
Hollow his evil eyes,
As from his den he goes
 Seeking for plunder.

Sheep running here and there
Helpless from sudden fear
 Warned of their danger,
What has the calm flock seen?
Close by the wild ravine
With fierce and threatening mien
 Stands a gaunt stranger.

Short is the cruel chase,
Then from a sheltered place
 Strange sounds ensuing
Tell of a victim dead,
Tell of a meal soon spread,
Tell of a fate most dread
 Wily pursuing.

Hark! Now from far away
Echoes a low, deep bay
 From ridge to hollow,
Ears pricked up at the sound,
Then with a sudden bound
Clears he the gory ground;
 Hounds soon will follow.

Crackling of underbrush,
Then, as before, a hush
 Deep and oppressive
Save for the frightened feet
Far off in quick retreat
And now and then a bleat
 Still apprehensive.

Soon on the ridge's height
Hunters appear in sight,
 Hounds traveling faster
Find where the prey was slain
Down in the wild ravine;
Where has the culprit gone?
 No one can answer.

Hunters of high repute
Back from a vain pursuit
 Weary and baffled,
Stealthy and cunning foe
Still your sly ends pursue.
Culprits more low than you
 Escape the scaffold.