How Fear Came

The stream is shrunk-the pool is dry,
 And we be comrades, thou and I;
 With fevered jowl and dusty flank
 Each jostling each along the bank;
 And, by one drouthy fear made still,
 Forgoing thought of quest or kill.
 Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,
 The lean Pack-Wolf as cowed as he,
 And the tall buck, unflinching, note
 The fangs that tore his father's throat.
 The pools are shrunk-the streams are dry,
 And we be playmates, thou and I,
 Till yonder cloud-Good Hunting!-Loose
 The rain that breaks our Water Truce.