Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/701

 INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918 683

THE SONG OF THE LITTLE HUNTER

Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People

cry,

Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh

He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear! Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,

And the whisper spreads and widens far and near. And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!

Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are

ribbed with light,

When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear, Comes a breathing hard behind thee snuffle-snuffle through

the night

It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go;

In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear! But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left

thy cheek It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear!

When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered

pine-trees fall,

When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer, Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud

than all

It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boul-

ders leap

Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy

side Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter this is Fear!