XIII. ODE TO A STUFFED PANTHER. 



( These lines were written upon seeing the effigy 

 of the Dorman panther in the Natural History 

 Museum of Albright College, Myerstown, Lebanon 

 County, on November G, 1913.) 



At twilight wlaen the shadows flit, 



Within the ancient museum I sit, 



Gazing througli the dust-encrusted glass. 



(While hosts of savage memories pass) 



At your effigy, ludicrously stuffed. 



The fulvous color faded, the paws all puffed, 



And bullet-holes in jowl and side 



Tell where your life blood ebbed like some red tide; 



A streak of light — the last of day — 



Gleams through a window on your muzzle gray, 



And lights your glassy eyes with garnet fire. 



You almost stir those orbs in fretful ire 



Which gape into the sunset's dying flame 



Towards the wild mountains whence you came; 



Revives old images which dormant lie — 



Outside the wind is raising to a sigh 



Like oft you voiced in the primeval wood. 



In your life's pilgrimage, I'd trace it if I could 



In white pine forests, tops trembling in the breeze 



Like restless sable-colored seas. 



Beneath, in rhododendron thickets high, 



You crouched until your prey came by. 



Grouse, or sickly fawn, or, even fisher-fox 



You rent, and then slunk back into the rocks, 



And on cold wintry nights, lit by the cloud-swept moon 



Your wailing to the music of the spheres atune, 



60 



