The Hunters

There were but two beneath the sky

The thing I came to kill, and I. 

I, under covert, quietly 

Watched him sense eternity 

From quivering brush to pointed nose 

My gun to shoulder level rose 

And then I felt (I could not see) 

Far off a hunter watching me. 

I slowly put my rifle by, 

For there were two who had to die 

The thing I wished to kill, and I. 

...........Native American Prayer