His reflection in water said:
The father is light’s general,
The son is but a morning star
Whose very rising into the
Failure of daylight makes the great
Case of upward fall—O see him
Bleaching out in the high morning!
His cold shadow on the rock said:
Under me, unshading, lies the
Skeleton of an Indian.
The dead. The dead are not even
Things. Nor odd beings. Stones and bones
Fall away to bone and stone then
To crumbling, then to part of night.
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