Caressingly with fingers of his heat;
Or from the dog yearn upward, and entreat
With eyes of adoration or of fear
The great god, Man—“What message, master dear,
From the dim heights beyond me where you are?”
In the mare’s tremulous whinny, in the far
Lowing of cattle from the upland sward,
Or wail of whip-poor-wills, at twilight poured
On pools of silence plaintively, or cry
Of the lone wolf beneath the glittering sky