26 APRIL 1930, Page 19

Jungle Night

HERE, in the night,

The black is mothed with stars, Where fire-fly sparks are playing Over the shadow bars The trees are laying Across the wind-stirred pool, Where a thousand moons hold riot, Join, part, and play the fool, Dance and are quiet.

Here is not sleep, With dark so full of sound As insect hordes go humming Over the dewless ground ; Bull-frogs are drumming Their dull mate-urging call, While shrill cicadas madly Rasp on ; and over all Jackals wail sadly.

This is not rest . .

For all the jungle stirs With silent creatures creeping, Half-felt, half-visioned blurs That watch unsleeping.

Heard steps mean springing death, And a white-fanged something bending With growl and foetid breath