The Morning Song of the Jungle
Rudyard Kipling 1865 (Mumbai) – 1936 (London)
One moment past our bodies cast
No shadow on the plain;
Now clear and black they stride our track,
And we run home again.
In morning-hush, each rock and bush
Stands hard, and high, and raw:
Then give the Call: "Good rest to all
That keep the Jungle Law!"
Now horn and pelt our peoples melt
In covert to abide;
Now, crouched and still, to cave and hill
Our Jungle Barons glide.
Now, stark and plain, Man's oxen strain,
That draw the new-yoked plough;
Now, stripped and dread, the dawn is red
Above the lit talao.
Ho! Get to lair! The sun's aflare
Behind the breathing grass:
And creaking through the young bamboo
The warning whispers pass.
By day made strange, the woods we range
With blinking eyes we scan;
While down the skies the wild duck cries:
"The Day--the Day to Man!"
The dew is dried that drenched our hide,
Or washed about our way;
And where we drank, the puddled bank
Is crisping into clay.
The traitor Dark gives up each mark
Of stretched or hooded claw:
Then hear the Call: "Good rest to all
That keep the Jungle Law!"
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 13, 2023
- 58 sec read
- 142 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | xaxxxbcD xexeaxxc bfxfxgxg ehxhxdcD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,010 |
Words | 197 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8 |
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"The Morning Song of the Jungle" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/33503/the-morning-song-of-the-jungle>.
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