A poem…

The Unknown

 

Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown

Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.

As a boy reckless and wanton,

Wandering with gun in hand though the forest

Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield,

I shot a hawk perched on the top

Of a dead tree.

He fell with guttural cry

At my feet, his wing broken.

Then I put him in a cage

Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me

When I offered him food.

Daily I search the realm of Hades

For the soul of the hawk,

That I may offer him the friendship

Of one whom life wounded and caged.

 

Edgar Lee Masters

 

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