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 impassive

Had 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.