Lines On A Dead Hawk

The watchful eye for aye is closed

The conquering heart is still.

All silent is the throbbing breast -

Swift-flying wings are now at rest -

No more they’ll bear the bird in quest

Of unsuspecting-prey -

Ne’er more he’ll swoop down from the hill

Glide over meadow, vale or rill

The hawk has fallen – glad the day.

Written by Ida May Schaffer

August 6, 1922

Age of 16