One moment past our bodies cast
No shadow on the plain
Now clear and black they stride our track
And we run home again
In morning-hush, each rock and bush
Stands hard, and high, and raw
Then give the Call: Good rest to all that keep the Jungle Law!
The dew is dried that drenched our hide
Or washed about our way
And where we drank, the puddled bank
Is crisping into clay
The traitor Dark gives up each mark
Of stretched or hooded claw
Then hear the Call: Good rest to all that keep the Jungle Law!
