| Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922. | | | | The Song of the Little Hunter |
| | | ERE Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, | |
| Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, | |
| Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh— | |
| He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear! | |
| Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade, | 5 |
| And the whisper spreads and widens far and near. | |
| And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now— | |
| He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear! | |
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| Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light, | |
| When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear, | 10 |
| Comes a breathing hard behind thee—snuffle-snuffle through the night— | |
| It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! | |
| On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go; | |
| In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear! | |
| But thy hands are loosed and weak, and the blood has left thy cheek— | 15 |
| It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! | |
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| When the heat-cloud sucks the tempest, when the slivered pine-trees fall, | |
| When the blinding, blaring rain-squalls lash and veer, | |
| Through the war-gongs of the thunder rings a voice more loud than all— | |
| It is Fear, O Little Hunter, it is Fear! | 20 |
| Now the spates are banked and deep; now the footless boulders leap— | |
| Now the lightning shows each littlest leaf-rib clear— | |
| But thy throat is shut and dried, and thy heart against thy side | |
| Hammers: Fear, O Little Hunter—this is Fear! | | | | |
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