In the heart of the wood that the man must hear.
The man who crouches among the trees
From the stern-faced men that follow these.
A huddle of rocks that the ooze has mossed—
And the trail of the hunted again is lost.
An upturned pebble; a bit of ground
A heel has trampled—the trail is found.
And the woods re-echo the bloodhounds’ bay
As again they take to the mountain way.
A rock; a ribbon of road; a ledge,