Rudyard Kipling

The Only Son

She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew
  For she heard  a whimper under the  sill  and  a  great grey paw came through.
  The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam,
  And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream.
  The last ash fell from the withered log with the click of a falling spark,
  And the Only Son woke up again, and called across the dark:—
  “Now was I born of womankind and laid in a mother’s breast?
  For I have dreamed of a shaggy hide whereon I went to rest.
  And was I born of womankind and laid on a father’s arm?
  For I have dreamed of clashing teeth that guarded me from harm.
 
  And was I born an Only Son and did I play alone?
  For I have dreamed of comrades twain that bit me to the bone.
  And did I break the barley-cake and steep it in the tyre?
  For I have dreamed of a youngling kid new-riven from the byre:
  For I  have  dreamed  of a midnight sky  and  a  midnight call to blood                            
  And red-mouthed shadows racing by, that thrust me from my food.
  ‘Tis an hour yet and an hour yet to the rising of the moon,
  But I can see the black roof-tree as plain as it were noon.
  ’Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the trooping blackbuck go;
  But I can hear the little fawn that bleats behind the doe.
 
 
  'Tis a league and a league to the Lena Falls where the crop and the upland meet,
  But I Can smell the  wet dawn-wind  that wakes  the sprouting wheat.
  Unbar the door. I may not bide, but I must out and see
  If those are wolves that wait outside or my own kin to me!”
        .                 .                    .                .             .
  She loosed the bar,  she slid the bolt, she opened the door anon,
  And a grey bitch-wolf came out of the dark and fawned on the Only Son!
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