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KajaDigk May 2016
At the hole where he went in
Red-eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red- eye saith:
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 your pleasure, Nag).
Turn for turn and twist for twist-
(Run and hide you, Nag).
Hah! The hooded death has missed!
(The sad one betide you, Nag)!
By Rudyard Kipling
KajaDigk May 2016
Oh! Hush you, my baby, the night is behind us,
        And black are the waters that sparkled so green.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us
        At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow, there soft be your pillow;
        ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at the ease!
The storm shall not wake you, nor shark overtake you,
        Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas!
By Rudyard Kipling
KajaDigk May 2016
What of hunting, hunter bold?
         Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry you went to ****?
         Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
         Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that you hurry by?
         Brother, I go to my lair- to die.
By Rudyard Kipling
KajaDigk May 2016
His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are
            the Buffalo's pride.
Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by
            the gloss of his hide.
If you find that the bullock can toss you, or heavy-
                browsed Sambhur con gore;
You need not stop work inform us: we knew it ten
                seasons before.
Oppress not the cubs of the stranger, but hail them
             as Sister and Brother,
For though they are little and fubsy, it may be the
              Bear is their mother.
"There is none like to me," says the Cub in the pride
             of his earliest ****;
But the Jungle is large and the Cub he is small. Let
             him think and be still.
By Rudyard Kipling
KajaDigk May 2016
Now Chil the Kite brings home the night
          That Mang the Bat sets free -----
The herds are shut in byre and hut,
          For loosed till dawn are we.
This is the hour of pride and power,
           Talon and **** and claw.
Oh hear the call! - Good hunting all
           That keep the Jungle Law!
By Rudyard Kipling
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