Barelegged, bareheaded, brown and free,
    They lurk and prowl and spring;
Like tiger-cubs they disagree,
    Like honeysuckers sing.

For in their hearts are echoes yet
    From ages when they knew
The caves of green they now forget,
    Though there they climbed or flew.

No cage set limits to their pace;
    They held the hunt at bay;
And in their careless mien I trace
    The savage mood to-day.

They’ll take no tidal drift, nor lie
    And rot like souls of mud,
For sullen lip and flashing eye
    Betray the rebel blood.

Go, flout the law your hearts disdain
    —Your foes are well arrayed—
And take for guerdon love and pain,
    And triumph unafraid.

In jungles where the night imparts
    Her secret lore to you,
Lie still and listen to your hearts.
    Be true, my sons, be true!