The old wolf lies with his nose on his paw
far off on a dreambound hill .
He blinks an eye over man-made laws
and snuffs the air for the kill . ....
Running at night , running at night ,
with the wind-in-the-wood's caress ,
with the moon day-bright on the rock-torn height
like a queen in her wedding dress.
Not his with the pack to howl and gloat ,
with
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