 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
TIGER TO TIGRESS.
The sultry jungle holds its breath;
The palsied night is dumb as death;
The golden stars burn large and bland
Above this torrid Indian land;
But we, that hunger's pangs distress,
Crouch low in deadly watchfulness,
With sleek striped shapes of massive size,
Great velvet paws and lurid eyes!
The palsied night is dumb as death;
The golden stars burn large and bland
Above this torrid Indian land;
But we, that hunger's pangs distress,
Crouch low in deadly watchfulness,
With sleek striped shapes of massive size,
Great velvet paws and lurid eyes!
Hark! did you hear that stealthy sound
Where yonder monstrous ferns abound?
Some lissome leopard pauses there;
Let him creep nearer if he dare! ...
And hark, again! in yonder grove
I hear that lazy serpent move;
A mottled thing, whose languid strength
Coils round a bough its clammy length!
Where yonder monstrous ferns abound?
Some lissome leopard pauses there;
Let him creep nearer if he dare! ...
92
I hear that lazy serpent move;
A mottled thing, whose languid strength
Coils round a bough its clammy length!
Soon the late moon that crimson air
Will fall with mellow splendors where
The Rajah's distant palace shows
Its haughty domes in dark repose.
And from this dim lair, by and bye,
We shall behold, against pale sky,
With mighty gorges robed in gloom,
The wild immense Himalayas loom!
Will fall with mellow splendors where
The Rajah's distant palace shows
Its haughty domes in dark repose.
And from this dim lair, by and bye,
We shall behold, against pale sky,
With mighty gorges robed in gloom,
The wild immense Himalayas loom!
At moonrise, through this very spot,
You still remember, do you not,
How that proud Punjab youth, last night,
Sprang past us on his charger white,
Perchance to have some fair hand throw
A rose from some seraglio? ...
Well, if to-night he passes, note
My hot leap at his horse's throat!
You still remember, do you not,
How that proud Punjab youth, last night,
Sprang past us on his charger white,
Perchance to have some fair hand throw
A rose from some seraglio? ...
Well, if to-night he passes, note
My hot leap at his horse's throat!
| Fantasy and Passion | |