The beast to the beast is calling, And the soul bends down to wait; Like the stealthy lord of the jungle, The white man calls his mate. The beast to the beast is calling, They rush through the twilight sweet, But the soul is a wary hunter, He will not let them meet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SWALLOW FLIGHT by SARA TEASDALE THE HILL WIFE: HOUSE FEAR by ROBERT FROST IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 104 by ALFRED TENNYSON MIDNIGHT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN NO CONTINUING CITY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE COLLIER'S WEDDING, SELECTION by EDWARD CHICKEN |