 | W. V. Her Book and Various Verses |  |
He smiled,
And from the hollow of his hand let fall
A crimson rain upon the crystal spring,
Which caught the blood in glassy ripple and whirl,
And reddened moss and boulder.
And from the hollow of his hand let fall
112
Which caught the blood in glassy ripple and whirl,
And reddened moss and boulder.
Swift of stride,
With gold-girt brow thrown back to front the Unseen,
The hoary giant through the jungle waste
Plunged, muttering in his beard; and onward pressed
Through the deep tangle of the trackless growth
To reach some lair, where hidden and unheard
His savage soul in its last strife might cope
With God—perchance one moment visible.
With gold-girt brow thrown back to front the Unseen,
The hoary giant through the jungle waste
Plunged, muttering in his beard; and onward pressed
Through the deep tangle of the trackless growth
To reach some lair, where hidden and unheard
His savage soul in its last strife might cope
With God—perchance one moment visible.
| W. V. Her Book and Various Verses | |