| |
| SHE dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew, | |
| For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. | |
| The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roofbeam, | |
| And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream. | |
| The last ash fell from the withered log with the click of a falling spark, | 5 |
| And the Only Son woke up again, and called across the dark:— | |
| “Now was I born of womankind and laid in a mother’s breast? | |
| For I have dreamed of a shaggy hide whereon I went to rest. | |
| And was I born of womankind and laid on a father’s arm? | |
| For I have dreamed of clashing teeth that guarded me from harm. | 10 |
| |
| And was I born an Only Son and did I play alone? | |
| For I have dreamed of comrades twain that bit me to the bone. | |
| And did I break the barley-cake and steep it in the tyre? | |
| For I have dreamed of a youngling kid new-riven from the byre. | |
| For I have dreamed of a midnight sky and a midnight call to blood | 15 |
| And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that thrust me from my food. | |
| ’Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising of the moon, | |
| But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were noon. | |
| ’Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the trooping blackbuck go; | |
| But I can hear the little fawn that bleats behind the doe. | 20 |
| ’Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the crop and the upland meet, | |
| But I can smell the wet dawn-wind that wakes the sprouting wheat. | |
| Unbar the door, I may not bide, but I must out and see | |
| If those are wolves that wait outside or my own kin to me!” * * * * * | |
| She loosed the bar, she slid the bolt, she opened the door anon, | 25 |
| And a grey bitch-wolf came out of the dark and fawned on the Only Son! | |
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