How keen the storied hunter's eye prevails upon the land
To seek the unsuspecting and the weak;
And powerless the fabled sat, too smug to lift a hand
Toward the foe that threatened from the deep.
Who cares to dry the cheeks of those who saddened stand
Adrift upon a sea of futile speech?
And to fall to fate and make the 'status plan'
Where was your word, where did you go?
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