THE HUNTER

I sit within the sodden gloom, Amid the dead that wall the room; Through galleries damp that reek decay, My stumbling feet have groped the way. Mine eyes that shudder at the light Have read the secrets of the night— From skeletons with toothless jaws I wring the utterance of the laws. Where foul the spider makes his lair, I con the lesson of his care. In threads too fine for mortal eyes I read Eternal Mysteries. In graves of mouldered love and lust, I search for secrets of the dust; Through palls with time and ashes spread, I plunge my hands among the dead. Then forth into the light of day, I fare again upon my way. A grain of sand, a blade of grass, Smite me to silence as I pass. In living men and worms I trace Old allegories of the race; In weeds put forth from out the sod I read the Scriptures of my God. Unto the hills I mount and see The vultures of the mountains flee; My failing eyes I backward cast To glean the harvest of the past. My tottering feet have paused alone Before the barriers of the known— For onward still, through wrong and ruth, I fare—a hunter of the Truth.