There lay the old gray trunk;
never to hold anything again.
There, in the wet soil,
a sadden decaying lump.
Stilled in the soft gentle rain;
lifeless—without coil.
Gone are the traveling memories
and self-gushing showers;
leaving only companion ivory
to be tombstone flowers.
Thus is the sad fate
of a great regal elephant;
victim of greed’s sake—
and man’s pleasured hunt.