The Unknown

YE aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown

Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.

As a boy reckless and wanton,

Wandering with gun in hand through the forest

Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield,

I shot a hawk perched on the top

Of a dead tree. He fell with guttural cry

At my feet, his wing broken.

Then I put him in a cage

Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me

When I offered him food.

Daily I search the realms of Hades

For the soul of the hawk,

That I may offer him the friendship

Of one whom life wounded and caged.

Alexander Throckmorton

IN youth my wings were strong and tireless,

But I did not know the mountains.

In age I knew the mountains

But my weary wings could not follow my vision —

Genius is wisdom and youth.