Night Rover

NIGHT ROVER

I decried this eve at evening’s end, den
Of night’s nemesis, nimble-nerveless, nafarious
Ocelot, in his soundless, unseen stride
Along a moonlit path.
And slinking low, how he stalked with
Pompus defiance in the forboding
Forest in his reign! Then spring, spring
Unruled toward his prey,
As a stream’s water slides on
Silty sand: with grace and cunning, felled
The frail fawn. My nerves abiding
Lit for the Ocelot, the feat of—the
Ascendancy of the act!
Enervating elegance and strength and
Deed, Oh, vigor, guile, agility
Here attend! And the shriek that
Cracks from thee then, a billion
Times told deadlier, more sapient
O, my knight! Naught marvel
Of it:  Quiet life makes laying earth
Deathly dim and bleached bones lay,
Ah my friends, flitter, bitter
Themselves and depart darkened paths.