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The elephant, the huge old beast,     is slow to mate;

he finds a female, they show no haste

     they wait

for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts

     slowly, slowly to rouse

as they loiter along the river-beds

     and drink and browse

and dash in panic through the brake
     of forest with the herd,

and sleep in massive silence, and wake

     together, without a word.
So slowly the great hot elephant hearts

     grow full of desire,

and the great beasts mate in secret at last,

     hiding their fire.

Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts
     so they know at last

how to wait for the loneliest of feasts

     for the full repast.

They do not snatch, they do not tear;
     their massive blood

moves as the moon-tides, near, more near

till they touch in flood.

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This entry was published on August 2, 2015 at 7:37 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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