The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top
Blood -- blood and torn grass --Had marked the rise of his agony --This lone hunter.The grey-green woods impassiveHad watched the threshing of his limbs.
A canoe with flashing paddle,A girl with soft searching eyes,A call: "John!". . . . .Come, arise, hunter!Can you not hear?
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
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