Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/25

Rh Gaunt, slinking dingoes snap and snarl, Watching his slowly-ebbing breath; Crows are flying, Hoarsely crying Burial service o’er the dying— Foul harbingers of Death.

Full many a man has perished there, Whose bones gleam white from the waste of sand— Who left no name On the scroll of Fame, Yet died in his tracks, as well became A son of that desert land.