William Robinson Poet I do not know?

The General

There in the park, beside the path, 
The limestone general stands,
With pigeons perched upon his hat
And on the saber in his hand.  
                                                                       
He would have cut a handsome swath                                
In the cavalry, of course,
But while he wasn' t looking
Some "sneaky Injun" stole his horse.
                                          
He never knew a victory,
Though that was his grand desire,      
But the "Indian war" came to an end
Before a single shot was fired.  
                                                  
So stubborn was the general,
Folks say he never died,
But stood there on that grassy hill   
And simply, slowly petrified.

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