A wolf is trotting in the brake,
All under the panthers’ limb;
But they have licked a fawn’s sweet blood,
And careless are grown of him.
Then darker grew the shadowy woods,
And bent with a crackling sound;
Shines through the dark the flashing foam
On the pebbled beach around.
Too late the warning loon has yell’d
To the shallow-wading crane;