Silent Song of Old Man

In silence swings the phantom blade,
Invisible, the brave now made,
Appears, then fades to legends told,
Their tales in time will soon unfold.

Fame and honor, like a draught,
Savoring the moment, fleeting, soft,
An overturned cup, the end is near,
Time hunts the master, the final frontier.

What deeds are left for one so bold?
When hunter's days grow tired and old,
Legacy long shared and sung,
What remains in verses sprung?