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From “Along the South Star Trail”
Tribal Songs from the South-west
WOEFUL, hear the shadows creep; | |
| Woeful, hear the tread of sleep. | |
| Who spoke? | |
| It was a lone whip-poor-will | |
| By the fallen tree, chanting mournfully | 5 |
| For the dead, or stretching a memory thread | |
| Between the Now and Other Years; | |
| Striking his harp | |
| Of tears. | |
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| Sweetness, see the stars appear; | 10 |
| Sweetness, see the eyes draw near. | |
| Who winked? | |
| It was the smallest fire-fly, | |
| Here and there and now nowhere, | |
| Dust of star come down so far | 15 |
| To the little Below from the great Above, | |
| Flashing his signals | |
| Of love. | |
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| Lovely, see the moon aflush; | |
| Lovely, see the maiden blush. | 20 |
| Who whispered? | |
| It was the tiny hidden spring, | |
| From light caress of tenderness | |
| Sending back on a trembling track | |
| A kiss from the Here to a golden Sphere; | 25 |
| Lifting her lips | |
| In fear. | |
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| Wondrous, hear the night-wings whir. | |
| Wondrous, hear the phantoms stir. | |
| Who sighed? | 30 |
| It was the little top-most leaf | |
| Of aspen bough, when rocked somehow | |
| By a hand somewhere; hearing the air | |
| Of that which Is in that which Seems, | |
| Wafting its heart | 35 |
| Of dreams. | |
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| Holy, feel the touch of dew; | |
| Holy, feel the kiss anew. | |
| Who breathed? | |
| It was the humblest flower, | 40 |
| Whose humid scent in petal tent | |
| Turned up the flap and, joy enwrapped, | |
| Escaped the clay to float on air; | |
| Nodding her head | |
| In prayer. | 45 |
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| Sadness, touch of the mystic scene— | |
| Sadness, touch of the hand unseen! | |
| Who prayed? | |
| It was I, but a new-born babe, | |
| Whose thoughts unpent, in bewilderment, | 50 |
| Fumbled for light in the web of night; | |
| A cry of nothingness unto infinite skies; | |
| Sweeping my strings | |
| Of sighs. | |
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