Stout in his stance, stern in his countenance,
he stood still, completely still, in the center
of the shallow lake. There for drink he drank
until drunk with a glory not of the earth
but of the stars as they stood completely
still in the deep black lake of big cold sky on
that clear Montana night.
At dusk he stood, forerunner of the stars
transfixed in an orbitless path. The grace
of his flesh and bone graced the lake and thus
gracing, graced you with his genius. The set
sun had died and in its dying had left
a trace of light, and by that trace you saw
that gleam of glory in his eyes.
The Elk Revisited
Stout in his stance, stern in his countenance,
He stands still, completely still, in the center
Of the shallow lake. There for drink he drinks
Until drunk with a glory not of the earth
But of the stars as they stand completely
Still in the deep black lake of big cold sky on
The clear Montana night.
At dusk he stands, forerunner of the stars
Transfixed in an orbitless path. The grace
Of his flesh and bone graces the lake and thus
Gracing, graces you with his genius. The set
Sun dies and in its dying leavest
A trace of light, and by that trace you see
The gleam of glory in his eyes.
