37

The Red Wolf

 With the fall of the leaf comes the wolf, wolf, wolf,

With

W

 The old red wolf at my door.

 And my hateful yellow dwarf, with his hideous crooked laugh,

 Cries “Wolf, wolf, wolf!” at my door.

 With the still of the frost comes the wolf, wolf, wolf,

 The gaunt red wolf at my door.

 He’s as tall as a Great Dane, with his grizzly russet mane;

 And he haunts the silent woods at my door.

38

 The scarlet maple leaves and the sweet ripe nuts,

 May strew the forest glade at my door,

 But my cringing cunning dwarf, with his slavered kacking laugh,

 Cries “Wolf, wolf, wolf!” at my door.

 The violets may come, the pale wind-flowers blow,

 And tremble by the stream at my door;

 But my dwarf will never cease, until his last release,

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