Page:The Poems of Henry Kendall (1920).djvu/378



of the flying, and fierce

Tops of the sharp-headed spear,

Hard by the thickets that pierce,

Lo! they are nimble and near.

Women are we, and the wives

Strong Arrawatta hath won;

Weary because of our lives,

Sick of the face of the sun.

Koola, our love and our light,

What have they done unto you?

Man of the star-reaching sight,

Dipped in the fire and the dew.

Black-headed snakes in the grass

Struck at the fleet-footed lord—

Still is his voice at the pass,

Soundless his step at the ford.

Far by the forested glen,

Starkly he lies in the rain;

Kings of the council of men

Shout for their leader in vain.

Yea, and the fish-river clear

Never shall blacken below

Spear and the shadow of spear,

Bow and the shadow of bow.

Hunter and climber of trees,

Now doth his tomahawk rust,

(Dread of the cunning wild bees),

Hidden in hillocks of dust.

We, who were followed and bound,

Dashed under foot by the foe,

Sit with our eyes to the ground,

Faint from the brand and the blow.