Fires - Book 3: The Hare, and Other TalesGibson, Wilfrid Wilson
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Fires - Book 3: The Hare, and Other Tales
Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson
English poetry; Stories in rhyme
But, even as I neared the first,
A pleasant whiff of stewing burst
From out a smoking pot a-bubble:
And, as I stopped behind the folk
Who sprawled around, and watched it seething
A woman heard my eager breathing,
And, turning, caught my hungry eye:
And called out to me: "Draw in nigher,
Unless you find it too much trouble;
Or you’ve a nose for better fare,
And go to supper with the Squire...
You’ve got the hungry parson’s air!"
And all looked up, and took the joke,
As I dropped gladly to the ground
Among them, where they all lay gazing
Upon the bubbling and the blazing.
My eyes were dazzled by the fire
At first; and then I glanced around;
And, in those swarthy, fire-lit faces--
Though drowsing in the glare and heat
And snuffing the warm savour in,
Dead-certain of their fill of meat--
I felt the bit between the teeth,
The flying heels, the broken traces,
And heard the highroad ring beneath
The trampling hoofs: and knew them kin.
Then for the first time, standing there
Behind the woman who had hailed me,
I saw a girl with eyes astare
That looked in terror o’er my head:
And, all at once, my courage failed me...
For now again, and sore-adread,
My hands were hot upon a hare,
That struggled, strangling in the snare...
Then once more as the girl stood clear,
Before me--quaking cold with fear
I saw the hare look from her eyes...
And when, at last, I turned to see
What held her scared, I saw a man--
A fat man with dull eyes aleer--
Within the shadow of the van:
And I was on the point to rise
To send him spinning ’mid the wheels,
And twist his neck between his heels,
And stop his leering grin with mud...
And would have done it in a tick...
When, suddenly, alive with fright,
She started, with red, parted lips,
As though she guessed we’d come to grips,
And turned her black eyes full on me...
And, as I looked into their light,
My heart forgot the lust of fight,
And something shot me to the quick,
And ran like wildfire through my blood,
And tingled to my finger-tips...
And, in a dazzling flash, I knew
I’d never been alive before...
And she was mine for evermore.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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