Wipeout

WIPEOUT You cannot imagine us today as we were - Almost simply a vestigial memory; but once We were numberless and roamed the landscape freely, Harmless and beautiful creatures, each graceful, But most impressive in herds of ten thousand, Grazing the short grass plains, following the seasons. In winter moving south, returning in spring: Shoals of us swimming the mighty rivers, Herds of us trotting to the high pastures in late summer, Flights of us in the early morning mists of the Towering fortress mountains which sheltered our beauty From all enemies. For millennia we lived in peace; But the hunters came and took one of us as a trial; then another. Then they took us in our thousands, for our skins, for our horns, Until only a few remained, and were herded into one tight valley With no escape. One by one the weapons of the hunters Cut us down till only Bighorn, the last of our race, was left standing. The chief hunter took careful aim and unleashed his weapon : Bighorn fell dead and with him died the race of the unicorn.