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W. V. Her Book and Various Verses

By William Canton ... With Two Illustrations by C. E. Brock

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The fierce white splendour of a tropic noon;
A sweltering waste of jungle, breathing flame;
The sky one burning sapphire!
By a spring
Within the shadow of a bluff of rock
The hoary giant rested. At his feet
The cool green mosses edged the crystal pool,
And flowers of blue and gold and rose-red lulled
The weary eye with colour. As he sat
There rose a clamour from the sea of canes;
He heard a crash of boughs, a rush of feet;
And, lo! there bounded from the tangled growth
A panting tiger mad with pain and rage.
The beast sprang roaring, but the giant towered
And pashed with one fell buffet bone and brain;
Then staggered with a groan, for, keen and swift,
At that same instant from the jungle flew

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A shaft which to the feather pierced his frame.
Shrill cries of horror maddened round the bluff:
“Oh, Elohim, 'tis Cain the King, the King!”
And weeping, tearing hair, and wringing hands,
About him raved his lawless giant brood.