Tiger - Tiger!

What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Where is the power that made your pride?
Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side.
Where is the haste that ye hurry by?
Brother, I go to my lair to die!

Rudyard

Rudyard Kipling was an English journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist. He was born in British India, which inspired much of his work. His notable works include the novels 'The Jungle Book,' 'Kim,' and the poem 'If—.' Kipling was one of the most popular writers in the United Kingdom in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907, making him the youngest recipient of the award.

Rudyard

Mandalay

Rudyard , Simple Poetry

A Song Of Travel

Rudyard , Simple Poetry

Pan In Vermont

Rudyard , Simple Poetry

The Sons of Martha

Rudyard , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Road-Song Of The Bandar-Log

Here we go in a flung festoon,
Half-way up to the jealous moon!
Don't you envy our pranceful bands?
Don't you wish you had extra hands?
Would n't you like if your tails were, so,
Curved in the shape of a Cupid's bow?
Now you're angry, but, never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!


Here we sit in a branchy row,
Thinking of beautiful things we know;
Dreaming of deeds that we mean to do,
All complete, in a minute or two,
Something noble and grand and good,
Won by merely wishing we could.
Now we're going to, never mind,
Brother, thy tail hangs down behind!


All the talk we ever have heard
Uttered by bat or beast or bird,
Hide or fin or scale or feather,
Jabber it quickly and all together!
Excellent! Wonderful! Once...

Rudyard

The Tiger.

        In the still jungle of the senses lay
        A tiger soundly sleeping, till one day
        A bold young hunter chanced to come that way.

        "How calm," he said, "that splendid creature lies!
        I long to rouse him into swift surprise."
        The well aimed arrow shot from amorous eyes,

        And lo! the tiger rouses up and turns,
        A coal of fire his glowing eyeball burns,
        His mighty frame with savage hunger yearns.

        He crouches for a spring; his eyes dilate -
        Alas! bold hunter, what shall be thy fate?
        Thou canst not fly; it is too late, too late.

        Once having tasted human flesh, ah! then,
        Woe, woe unto the whole rash world of men.
        The wakened tiger will not sleep...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Song Of The Little Hunter

Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry,
Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer,
Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh,
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!
Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade,
And the whisper spreads and widens far and near.
And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now,
He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!

Ere the moon has climbed the mountain, ere the rocks are ribbed with light,
When the downward-dipping trails are dank and drear,
Comes a breathing hard behind thee,snuffle-snuffle through the night,
It is Fear, O Little Hunter it is Fear,
On thy knees and draw the bow; bid the shrilling arrow go;
In the empty, mocking thicket plunge the spear!
But thy hands are loos...

Rudyard

The Spring Running

Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle!
He that was our Brother goes away.
Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle,
Answer, who can turn him, who shall stay?

Man goes to Man! He is weeping in the Jungle:
He that was our Brother sorrows sore!
Man goes to Man! (Oh, we loved him in the Jungle!)
To the Man-Trail where we may not follow more.

Rudyard

Outsong In The Jungle

Baloo

For the sake of him who showed
One wise Frog the Jungle-Road,
Keep the Law the Man-Pack make
For thy blind old Baloo's sake!
Clean or tainted, hot or stale,
Hold it as it were the Trail,
Through the day and through the night,
Questing neither left nor right.
For the sake of him who loves
Thee beyond all else that moves,
When thy Pack would make thee pain,
Say: "Tabaqui sings again."
When thy Pack would work thee ill,
Say: "Shere Khan is yet to kill."
When the knife is drawn to slay,
Keep the Law and go thy way.
(Root and honey, palm and spathe,
Guard a cub from harm and scathe!)
Wood and Water, Wind and Tree,
Jungle-Favour go with thee!

Kaa

Anger is the egg of Fear,
Only lidless eyes see clear.
Co...

Rudyard

Mowgli's Song

The Song of Mowgli, I, Mowgli, am singing. Let the jungle listen to the things I have done.
Shere Khan said he would kill, would kill! At the gates in the twilight he would kill Mowgli, the Frog!
He ate and he drank. Drink deep, Shere Khan, for when wilt thou drink again? Sleep and dream of the kill.
I am alone on the grazing-grounds. Gray Brother, come to me! Come to me, Lone Wolf, for there is big game afoot.
Bring up the great bull-buffaloes, the blue-skinned herd-bulls with the angry eyes. Drive them to and fro as I order.
Sleepest thou still, Shere Khan? Wake, O wake!
Here come I, and the bulls are behind.
Rama, the King of the Buffaloes, stamped with his foot. Waters of the Waingunga, whither went Shere Khan?
He is not Ikki to dig holes, nor Mao, the Peacock, that he should fly. He is not Mang...

Rudyard