The elephant， the huge old beast，

    is slow to mate；

    he finds a female， they show no haste

    they wait

    for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts

    slowly， slowly to rouse

    as they loiter along the river-beds

    and drink and browse¹

    and dash in panic through the brake

    of forest with the herd²，

    and sleep in massive silence， and wake

    together， without a word.

    So slowly the great hot elephant hearts

    grow full of desire，

    and the great beasts mate in secret at last，

    hiding their fire.

    Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts

    so they know at last

    how to wait for the loneliest of feasts

    for the full repast.

    They do not snatch， they do not tear；

    their massive blood

    moves as the moon-tides， near， more near

    till they touch in flood.