The Tiger-Woman

The Tiger-Woman came to me

When dusk was close and men were dull.

She beckoned from the jungle-path;

I followed, dreaming, fanciful.

The Tiger-Woman’s face is pale,

But oh, her speaking eyes are dark.

No beast can move so lithe as she

Beside the matted river’s mark.

The jungle is a fearsome place

For men who hunt, and men who slay,

But I was not afraid to go

Where Tiger-Woman led the way.

The Tiger-Woman’s lips are thin;

Her teeth are like the Tiger’s teeth.

Yet her soft hands are woman’s hands,

And oh, the blood beats warm beneath.

She led me to a little glade,—

The creepers with the moon inwove,—

And two great striped beasts leaped up

And fawned upon her breast in love.

The Tiger-Woman’s voice was sweet;

I hearkened and was not afraid.

She stroked the Tigers’ fearful jaws;

Upon their heads my hands I laid.

And all the jungle things drew near,

And all the leaves a music made

Like spirits chanting in a choir

Along the bamboo colonnade.

Too sweet for human harps to sound,

It touched my blood, it fired my heart

The Tiger-Woman sang, and I

Sang too, and understood her art.

She kissed the Tiger’s snarling mouth.

She kissed—I marveled that she could—

But now her lips were warm on mine;

I cared not they were dabbed with blood.

What if the traveller shuns my hut,

What if the world forgets to be,

What if I have the Tiger’s heart,—

The Tiger-Woman loveth me!