That gives fit anchorage for orchid roots. 
’Twas here some century or more agone 
I first saw light. Perchance some vagrant wind 
Tossed on the living tree a tiny seed, 
Or else some errant bird or climbing beast 
Or yet perchance an ant or some such humble thing 
Left with that forest host the germ 
That brought me into being. 
Howe’er it may be, on that tree I grew 
And flowered and shed about 
The seeds that presaged further life 
To carry on my work of adding beauty to a sombre world. 
IX 
Close by, the Orinoco’s stream raced through its tortile banks 
From the high hills down to Paria where lies the isle of Trinidad 
And romantic Port-o-Spain. 
About me and below there lay the leafy gloom 
Of forest primeval; from whose shady fastnesses 
Rose the mixed scent of flowers and stench of foetid tropic. 
The quiet of the night was broken oft 
By the snarl of spotted jaguar or the cry 
Of some blood-hungry puma on the trail 
Of his predestined prey. 
And sometimes through the sleepy night would come 
The dulcet song of some lone Indian on his way 
In bark canoe to secret trysting place— 
Or else the shrill screech of warriors 
Casting defiance to the foes who lurked with poised dart 
Amidst the shrubs that limned the river bank. 
xX 
And with the dawn, the sun, all glorious, shed 
Its virile fructifying beams about— 
And brought to wakefulness the forest folk. 
Then was the air with fragrance filled— 
A thousand different scents from twenty thousand flowers. 
The bees and beetles in their swarms 
Fulfilled their part in Nature’s wondrous plan, 
While humming birds in glowing colours clad 
Hevered and sped about me and around; 
And, when the mild and balmy trades brought on their breath 
A passing thunder-shower, took shelter ’neath my leaves and flowers. 
Beneath the haven of my roots and stems 
There dwelt a tribe of ants, fierce warriors 
3735 
