BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



By some who worship stone or wood, 

 Or bird or beast, or who stretch hands 

 Sunward on shining Eastern sands ? 



And crime has cause. Nay, never pause 



Idly to feel a pulseless wrist, 

 Brace up the massive square-shaped jaws. 



Unclench the stubborn, stiff'ning fist. 

 And close those eyes through film and mist, 



That kept the old defiant glare ; 

 And answer, wise Psychologist, 



Whose science claims some little share 



Of truth. What better things lay there ? 



Aye ! thought and mind were there, — some 

 kind 



Of faculty that men mistake 

 For talent when their wits are blind, — 



An aptitude to mar and break 

 What others diligently make. 



This was the worst and best of him — 

 Wise with the cunning of the snake. 



Brave with the she-wolfs courage grim, 



Dying hard and dumb, torn limb from 



limb. 



204 



