“The Wolf of Ederachillis,” published in 1860: On Ederachillis’ shore The grey wolf lies in wait,— Woe to the broken door, Woe to the loosened gate, And the groping wretch whom sleety fogs On the trackless moor belate. The lean and hungry wolf, With his fangs so sharp and white, His starveling body pinched By the frost of a northern night, And his pitiless eyes that scare the dark With their green and threatening light. He climeth the guarding dyke, He leapeth the hurdle bars, He steals the sheep from the pen, And the fish from the boat-house spars; And he digs the dead from out of the sod,
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