For I have dreamed of a shaggy hide whereon I went
to rest?
And was I born of womankind and laid on a father’s
arm?
For I have dreamed of clashing teeth that guarded
me from harm.
And was I born an Only Son and did I play alone?
For I have dreamed of comrades twain that bit me to
the bone.
And did I break the barley-cake and steep it in the
tyre?
For I have dreamed of a youngling kid new-riven from
the byre.
For I have dreamed of a midnight sky and a midnight
call to blood,
And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that thrust me
from my food.
’Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising
of the moon,
But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were
noon.
’Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls
where the trooping blackbuck go;
But I can hear the little fawn that bleats behind
the doe.
’Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls
where the crop and the upland meet,
But I can smell the wet dawn-wind that wakes the sprouting
wheat.
Unbar the door, I may not bide, but I must out and
see
If those are wolves that wait outside or my own kin
to me!’
* * * *
*
She loosed the bar, she slid the bolt, she opened
the door anon,
And a grey bitch-wolf came out of the dark and fawned
on the Only Son!
I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines—
I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines!
The roofs shall fade before
it,
The house-beams
shall fall,
And the Karela, the
bitter Karela,
Shall cover it
all!
In the gates of these your councils my people shall
sing,
In the doors of these your garners the Bat-folk shall
cling;
And the snake shall be your
watchman,
By a hearthstone
unswept;
For the Karela, the
bitter Karela,
Shall fruit where
ye slept!
Ye shall not see my strikers; ye shall hear them and
guess;
By night, before the moon-rise, I will send for my
cess,
And the wolf shall be your
herdsman
By a landmark
removed,
For the Karela, the
bitter Karela,
Shall seed where
ye loved!
I will reap your fields before you at the hands of
a host;
Ye shall glean behind my reapers for the bread that
is lost;
And the deer shall be your
oxen
On a headland
untilled,
For the Karela, the
bitter Karela,
Shall leaf where
ye build!
I have untied against you the club-footed vines—
I have sent in the Jungle to swamp out your lines!
The trees—the trees
are on you!
The house-beams
shall fall,
And the Karela, the
bitter Karela,
Shall cover you
all!
