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.