He snuffs the coming drouth
As he snuffs the coming rain,
He knows what each will bring forth,
And turns it to his gain.
A Prince without a Sword,
A Ruler without a Throne;
Israel follows his quest.
In every land a guest,
Of many lands a lord,
In no land King is he.
But the Fifth Great River keeps
The secret of Her deeps
For Israel alone,
As it was ordered to be.
Now it was the third week in November, and the woods
rang with the noise of pheasant-shooting. No one hunted
that steep, cramped country except the village beagles,
who, as often as not, escaped from their kennels and
made a day of their own. Dan and Una found a couple of
them towling round the kitchen-garden after the laundry
cat. The little brutes were only too pleased to go rabbiting,
so the children ran them all along the brook pastures
and into Little Lindens farm-yard, where the old sow
vanquished them - and up to the quarry-hole, where
they started a fox. He headed for Far Wood, and there
they frightened out all the Pheasants, who were sheltering
from a big beat across the valley. Then the cruel guns
began again, and they grabbed the beagles lest they
should stray and get hurt.
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