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The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top

 The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top

Blood -- blood and torn grass --
Had marked the rise of his agony --
This lone hunter.
The grey-green woods impassive Had watched the threshing of his limbs.
A canoe with flashing paddle, A girl with soft searching eyes, A call: "John!" .
.
.
.
.
Come, arise, hunter! Can you not hear? The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.

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