Full Lyrics
His footprints have failed us,
Where berries are red,
And madroños are rankest,—
The hunter is dead!
The grizzly may pass
By his halfopen door;
May pass and repass
On his path, as of yore;
The panther may crouch
In the leaves on his limb;
May scream and may scream,—
It is nothing to him.
Prone, bearded, and breasted
Like columns of stone;
And tall as a pine—
As a pine overthrown!
His campfires gone,
What else can be done
Than let him sleep on
Till the light of the sun?
Ay, tombless! what of it?
Marble is dust,
Cold and repellent;
And iron is rust.
