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!