[i]The Yellowhead[/i]
Along a road called 'Yellowhead'
    I'd found myself alone—
My ride had taken me to bed
    And, in the morning, flown—

With paw outstretched and digit out,
    I walked the winter way,
Yet not a soul came down the route,
    And fog eclipsed the day—

The air was sharp—
My coat was thin—
    The pavement, Hellward bound—
At last, my sorry paws gave in
    And cast me to the ground—

I cursed the Gods, each one I knew,
    And then I made my peace—
A Devil's wind came screaming through,
    And, in it's wake, a beast—

A snaking thing that seemed to sprawl,
    With scores of shining eyes—
Around—
And through—
Nowhere at all—
    And it had heard my cries—

My conscioussness did throb and ache—
    The sight of such a thing!—
Yet, in a warmèd bed I woke,
    And birds began to sing—

They'd found me in the square, they said,
    When furies felled a post—
And good thing too, as I'd be dead
    In but a wink, at most—

It took some time to lick my wounds,
    To gather back my strength—
But now I wait for gibbous moons
    And search the Yellow's length.