Behold there is a woman that hath a familiar spirit at En-dor. -- I Samuel, xxviii. 7
The road to En-dor is easy to tread
Because I sought it far from men,
In deserts and alone,
I found it burning overhead,
The jewel of a Throne.
I turned -- Heaven knows we women turn too much
I have a dream -- a dreadful dream --
A dream that is never done.
I watch a man go out of his mind,
And he is My Mother's Son.
Fair is our lot -- O goodly is our heritage!
(Humble ye, my people, and be fearful in your mirth!)
For the Lord our God Most High
He hath made the deep as dry,
Now this is the Law of the Jungle -- as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. AAs the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back --
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
Old is the song that I sing --
Old as my unpaid bills --
Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring
Men at dak-bungalows -- old as the Hills.
Much I owe to the Lands that grew--
More to the Lives that fed--
But most to Allah Who gave me two
Separate sides to my head.