"There is none like to me!" says the Cub in the pride of his earliest kill; But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let him think and be still. Kaa's Hunting. The stream is shrunk-the pool is dry, How Fear Came. What of the hunting, hunter bold? Brother, I go to my lair to die! "Tiger-Tiger!" Veil them, cover them, wall them round- Let us forget the sight and the sound, The smell and the touch of the breed! Fat black ash by the altar-stone, Here is the white-foot rain, And the does bring forth in the fields unsown, And the blind walls crumble, unknown, o'erthrown, Letting in the Jungle. These are the Four that are never content, that have never been filled since the Dews began Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man. The King's Ankus. For our white and our excellent nights-for the nights of swift running, Fair ranging, far-seeing, good hunting, sure cunning! For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed! For the rush through the mist, and the quarry blind-started! For the cry of our mates when the sambhur has wheeled and is standing at bay! For the risk and the riot of night! For the sleep at the lair-mouth by day! It is met, and we go to the fight. Red Dog. Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle! He that was our Brother goes away. Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle, Answer, who can turn him-who shall stay? Man goes to Man! He is weeping in the Jungle: Man goes to Man! (Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!) The Spring Running. At the hole where he went in "Nag, come up and dance with death!" Eye to eye and head to head, (Keep the measure, Nag.) This shall end when one is dead; (At thy pleasure, Nag.) Turn for turn and twist for twist (Run and hide thee, Nag.) Hah! The hooded Death has missed! (Woe betide thee, Nag!) “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.” Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, Where billow meets billow, then soft be thy pillow; The storm shall not wake thee, nor shark overtake thee, The White Seal. You mustn't swim till you're six weeks old, Are bad for baby seals, dear rat, As bad as bad can be; The White Seal. I will remember what I was, I am sick of rope and chain— I will go out until the day, until the morning break, Out to the winds' untainted kiss, the waters' clean caress. I will forget my ankle-ring and snap my picket-stake. I will revisit my lost loves, and playmates masterless! Toomai of the Elephants. The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go. The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight; They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to the white. The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's crew; Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few. But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken Their spears are made of the narwhal-horn, and they are the last of the Men! Quiquern. When ye say to Tabaqui, "My Brother!" when ye call the Hyena to meat, Ye may cry the Full Truce with Jacala-the Belly that runs on four feet. The Undertakers. The night we felt the earth would move That knows but cannot understand. And when the roaring hillside broke, Mourn now, we saved him for the sake The Miracle of Purun Bhagat. THE EGG-SHELL THE wind took off with the sunset- When the Witch of the North took an Egg-shell With a little Blue Devil inside. "Sink," she said, "or swim," she said, "It's all you will get from me. And that is the finish of him!" she said, |