Author Hilaire Belloc When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass And find a stone half-hidden in tall grass And grey with age: but having seen that stone (Which was your image), ride more slowly on. Tags hunting Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments