by Rudyard Kipling (1865 - 1936)

The stream is shrunk ‑‑ the pool is dry
Language: English 
The stream is shrunk -- the pool is dry,
And we be comrades, thou and I;
With fevered jowl and dusty flank
Each jostling each along the bank;
And by one drouthy fear made still,
Forgoing thought of quest or kill.
Now ’neath his dam the fawn may see,
The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,
And the tall buck, unflinching, note
The fangs that tore his father’s throat.
The pools are shrunk -- the streams are dry,
And we be playmates, thou and I,
Till yonder cloud -- Good Hunting! -- loose
The rain that breaks our Water Truce.

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This text was added to the website: 2024-12-02
Line count: 14
Word count: 96