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[Tem-Eyos-Kwi]
SHE comes—Tem-Eyos-Kwi— | |
| The maiden who has known love! | |
| Last night Love touched her in the house of waiting. | |
| Love hid the seeds of life in her garments. | |
| In the wind of her walking they are scattered; | 5 |
| All the sod will bloom with them! | |
| None shall be lost: because of her gladness, the gladness of love known. | |
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| Ah—hi-i! She sees the earth not as we see it— | |
| We who were not overtaken by Love in the house of waiting. | |
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| Wake, women, maidens and wives! | 10 |
| Greet Tem-Eyos-Kwi! | |
| Greet her with feet dancing, | |
| With songs of the heart and lips trembling to silence, | |
| Hands that lift their wonder to the breast | |
| Yet touch not the flesh. | 15 |
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| Wake, sons, lovers, young chiefs, hunters with arrows! | |
| Sharpen the darts, make strong, bend the bow; | |
| Keen, keen as light, and clear as the wind be your eyes! | |
| The women await you in secret places, | |
| They have hidden themselves in the leafy shelters: | 20 |
| All the green leagues of the forest are ashake with invitation. | |
| The quick beating of their hearts is the whisper along the bending grass. | |
| The sod grows warm—O men, Summer-dawn is the spirit of the women! | |
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| They have washed their hearts with prayer, | |
| And their bodies with juices of cedar: | 25 |
| Perfumed and dried by the wind they have come up from the shore— | |
| The great hosts of the women— | |
| Unwrapping themselves from the mists of the morning. | |
| They have entered the forest with the footfalls of muted music, | |
| With light tossing steps like the spray on long beaches. | 30 |
| The swinging trees drip dew: | |
| With lines of sparkling rain they point the way the women have gone, | |
| Leaving all the paths to them open. | |
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| Harken! They follow Tem-Eyos-Kwi, singing: | |
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| “Come, come, O swift and strong! | 35 |
| We are the women: seek us! | |
| Our hearts, like little swallows, nest above the secret pools. | |
| Oh, say, shall not the winged dart pierce, | |
| And the shadow of the bended bow | |
| Stir the still, deep pools? | 40 |
| Oh, the waters shall sparkle and leap and mingle, | |
| And brim at your lips, O men! | |
| They shall be poured out and drip upon a chief’s feet; | |
| They shall fill the hollows of his house with children! | |
| Flowing in laughter and whispers and little cries | 45 |
| As smoke through the smoke-hole at evening! | |
| Ai! ah! ai! Women! Waken the soil with freshets; | |
| Bear joy upward as a canoe with sails, swifter than paddles. | |
| O men, hunters of life, | |
| We are the harborers, the fosterers—the women: | 50 |
| Seek us!” | |
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| It was the women, the harborers, the fosterers, who rose first, | |
| And followed Tem-Eyos-Kwi: | |
| They called to the men. | |
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| The men go forth like one! | 55 |
| Lightning and heat are their weapons, hurled crashing before them. | |
| Their hairs, spreading wide, give black wings to the sun, | |
| As a cloud filled with eagles blown up from the sea. | |
| They enter the forest with the tramp of thunder and the darkness of storm; | |
| And the song of the women is stilled. | 60 |
| The cry of offering ascends, it passes the swooping shadows; | |
| There is a sigh through the forest of winds sinking— | |
| Then the hush. | |
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| On the leaves is a sweet whisper of rain, | |
| Whispered sweetness of pangs past. | 65 |
| The warm soil drinks the coolness of tears— | |
| Tears that are dropping melodies | |
| Because cunning hands and strong have shaken the living cords. | |
| The skies part, the black wings fold; | |
| The Sun-chief’s canoe rides on the upper blue with furled sails: | 70 |
| Tem-Eyos-Kwi, laughing, is at the paddle. | |
| Our village is drenched with light. | |
| (Ai-i! Tem-Eyos-Kwi is glad because Love has overtaken us; | |
| Because now we see the earth as she sees it.) | |
| Two by two, they come up from the forest—the men and the women. | 75 |
| The women’s smiles are the little sun-tipped clouds | |
| Floating across the face of the mountain: | |
| The look in their eyes is deeper than the seas. | |
| High in the light the men lift their heads. | |
| On their clear brows is the mystic mark | 80 |
| Of those from whom a great dream has gone forth. | |
| Firmly they hold the hands of the women, | |
| Who have given peace to their strength, and a meaning. | |
| Together, together, the race-makers enter the lodges. | |
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