إلينور ويلي

,When foxes eat the last gold grape ,And the last white antelope is killed I shall stop fighting and escape .Into a little house I’ll build

Man, the egregious egoist (In mystery the twig is bent) ,Imagines, by some mental twist

,Avoid the reeking herd  ,Shun the polluted flock  ,Live like that stoic bird  .The eagle of the rock

Now let no charitable hope Confuse my mind with images :Of eagle and of antelope

For this you’ve striven ‎‏ :Daring, to fail ‎‏Your sky is riven ‎‏ .Like a tearing veil