Alabama, 1915. 15 



HAWK'S CHALLENGE 



WINTER or Summer, what care I? — 

 The tilled or the untilled plain ? 

 My lot is cast in the blue abyss, 



And the lordly sun's domain. 

 Over the broad champaign I float, 



And over the sparkling sea; 

 I mount at will to the peak of heaven, 



And rejoice that I am free, 



Ko, keeo, kilio, keeo! 



I exult that I am free ! 



KO, kileo, ye groundlings born, 



Of the tribes that reap and sow, — 

 Blesing and ban to me are one, 



As up and aloft I go ! 

 There are quaking hearts below, I ween, 



For this black shape in the sky ; 

 For the Hawk's breed has a Hawk's blood, 



And a Hawk of the Hawks am I. 



Ko, keeo, kileo, keeo! 



A Hawk of the Hawks am I ! 



— Dora Read Goodale. 



*C^ 



A 



THE HAWK 



LIFE at every meal, rapacious hawk ! 

 Spare helpless innocence ! 



— Troth, pleasant talk ! 

 Yon swallow snaps more lives up in a day 

 Than in a twelvemonth I could take away. 

 But hark, most gentle censor, in your ear, 

 A word, a whisper, — you, — are you quite clear ? 

 Creation's groans, through ocean, earth and sky, 

 Ascend from all that walk, or swim, or fly. 



