Hunting Season

Now the reign of terror
Has returned another year
For all the little wild things,
The fox, the cub, the deer,
As they venture through the woodlands
Just to nibble bud and twig,
And learn through shattered bodies
That the world was never big
Enough to stand between them
And the death-buds of the gun,
Nor warm enough to cuddle them
Where bloodless pathways run.

EDITH L. JOHNSON.