 | The candle in the cabin |  |
77
THE SECTION ENTITLED THE CANDLE IN THE CABIN IS LIGHTED
79
THE CANDLE IN THE CABIN
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
When you and I were driving herds and ranching on the sun,
Skinning mules and building towns and cooking for the boss,
Living where the mountains and the plains and rivers cross,
We had our vast adventures and our blood-letting days.
For cattle thieves are mighty on the trails of the sun;
When they capture big-bull prizes, their day of glory rises.
But we caught them and we lynched them
On the great plains of the sun.
And those were cruel realistic days.
Yes, we kept our cattle safe, the cattle of the Sun-chief.
Bulls like the Bulls of Texas bellowed there,
And we rode their backs like gods and frolicked there.
Skinning mules and building towns and cooking for the boss,
Living where the mountains and the plains and rivers cross,
We had our vast adventures and our blood-letting days.
For cattle thieves are mighty on the trails of the sun;
When they capture big-bull prizes, their day of glory rises.
But we caught them and we lynched them
On the great plains of the sun.
And those were cruel realistic days.
Yes, we kept our cattle safe, the cattle of the Sun-chief.
Bulls like the Bulls of Texas bellowed there,
And we rode their backs like gods and frolicked there.
The great sea in the sun is like the air;
And the great wind in the sun is like the sea;
And we rode the bulls of wonder
Through the ocean round the year,
Over the ocean floor;
And gloried without fear.
And the great wind in the sun is like the sea;
And we rode the bulls of wonder
Through the ocean round the year,
80
And gloried without fear.
When we were cook and cowboy in the tremendous sun,
We built a shack of silver rocks and rain.
For the light is like the rain
In the storm-clouds of the sun,
And our magic harnessed clouds and rocks and rain.
And we built a rainbow shack of rocks and rain,
And lit a wax-flower candle in the night there in the rain;
For night comes there despite the blazing rain.
We lit a little candle made of wax from wax-flower berries,
From the highest forest of the mountain heights.
And there we kissed and sang,
As here we kiss and sing,
Teaching one another dear delights.
We built a shack of silver rocks and rain.
For the light is like the rain
In the storm-clouds of the sun,
And our magic harnessed clouds and rocks and rain.
And we built a rainbow shack of rocks and rain,
And lit a wax-flower candle in the night there in the rain;
For night comes there despite the blazing rain.
We lit a little candle made of wax from wax-flower berries,
From the highest forest of the mountain heights.
And there we kissed and sang,
As here we kiss and sing,
Teaching one another dear delights.
When you and I were children of the tremendous sun,
Serpent-stranglers, and horse-wranglers,
Bull-whackers and mule-skinners,
We hardly knew
Just what to do.
We had the strength and leisure,
(We had ten thousand years)
So we rode a great red eagle
Through the blaze and blue.
We looked down on our mountains,
We looked down on our cities,
We looked down on our oceans,
On our bull herds, proud and vain,
And on our playhouse built of rocks and rain.
Serpent-stranglers, and horse-wranglers,
Bull-whackers and mule-skinners,
We hardly knew
Just what to do.
81
(We had ten thousand years)
So we rode a great red eagle
Through the blaze and blue.
We looked down on our mountains,
We looked down on our cities,
We looked down on our oceans,
On our bull herds, proud and vain,
And on our playhouse built of rocks and rain.
Then we flew to Glacier Park,
And turned to aspen trees,
Here on great Sun Mountain, and dreamed here,
In the sunshine, rocks and rain,
Dreamed again of Going-to-the-Sun,
And saw April going and returning,
And forest fires and years,
And saw Red Eagle turn into a mountain,
Through the years.
And turned to aspen trees,
Here on great Sun Mountain, and dreamed here,
In the sunshine, rocks and rain,
Dreamed again of Going-to-the-Sun,
And saw April going and returning,
And forest fires and years,
And saw Red Eagle turn into a mountain,
Through the years.
Then we were born as lovers,
Singing as we are now,
Singing, desiring,
Burning a little candle in a log house in the rain.
And the shadows thrown by candlelight
Are light, not midnight darkness.
They fill the midnight darkness with the starlight of our pain:—
Our hearts' celestial revel,
Sun-born, without stain,
In that rain called the starlight,
In that rain called the sunshine,
In that candle-flame, called rain.
Singing as we are now,
Singing, desiring,
Burning a little candle in a log house in the rain.
And the shadows thrown by candlelight
Are light, not midnight darkness.
82
Our hearts' celestial revel,
Sun-born, without stain,
In that rain called the starlight,
In that rain called the sunshine,
In that candle-flame, called rain.
83
BY THE OLDEST TRAILS
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
The moose they say is a whimsical beast.
The pack rat is a curious thing.
The wood wasp, too, is a curious thing.
But a stranger thing was on the wing,
A flying machine, the fire patrol,
Heard from behind a tremendous mountain,
Humming on like America's soul.
The pack rat is a curious thing.
The wood wasp, too, is a curious thing.
But a stranger thing was on the wing,
A flying machine, the fire patrol,
Heard from behind a tremendous mountain,
Humming on like America's soul.
It was hid behind the mountain top,
Yet humming and humming again and again.
Then we slept all night in a cabin unused,
Yet a telephone spoke again and again,
The ringing pulse of America's blood,
Calling us back by its very sound
To America's streets again and again.
Yet humming and humming again and again.
Then we slept all night in a cabin unused,
Yet a telephone spoke again and again,
The ringing pulse of America's blood,
Calling us back by its very sound
To America's streets again and again.
So deeper and deeper on we climbed
To where the fallen cabins are found
By the oldest trails, a lifetime old.
And the waterfalls roared to keep us proud,
And not be misled by the hum and the ring
Back to where the skyscrapers swing.
To where the fallen cabins are found
By the oldest trails, a lifetime old.
And the waterfalls roared to keep us proud,
And not be misled by the hum and the ring
Back to where the skyscrapers swing.
84
THE DRAGON FLY GUIDE
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
A dragon fly by bright Waterton Lake,
And a flying machine in the sky,
Ran competition for our admiration
The day that summer went finally by.
The flying machine disappeared in the west
Across hundreds and hundreds of trails,
The dragon fly dallied in buckler metallic
Fish and reptilian scales,
Whizzing this way and that,
By bright Waterton Lake,
And seemed to be showing the way we should take,
While the underbrush dragged at our knees.
And a flying machine in the sky,
Ran competition for our admiration
The day that summer went finally by.
The flying machine disappeared in the west
Across hundreds and hundreds of trails,
The dragon fly dallied in buckler metallic
Fish and reptilian scales,
Whizzing this way and that,
By bright Waterton Lake,
And seemed to be showing the way we should take,
While the underbrush dragged at our knees.
Then the dragon fly led
To a dimmer lake,
The home of a somnolent, indolent breeze;
The dragon fly led
To one lone lake,
The true lovers' own,
The sweet secret lake,
Past hundreds and hundreds of trees,
Hundreds and hundreds of trees.
To a dimmer lake,
The home of a somnolent, indolent breeze;
The dragon fly led
To one lone lake,
The true lovers' own,
The sweet secret lake,
Past hundreds and hundreds of trees,
Hundreds and hundreds of trees.
85
WHY DO WE NOT RETURN?
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
Dear, we were in Egypt
Not so long ago.
We sailed the Nile,
We saw the sacred Ibis come and go.
We sailed among Papyrus reeds,
We saw the temples burn
In the light of the desert dawn.
Why do we not return?
Not so long ago.
We sailed the Nile,
We saw the sacred Ibis come and go.
We sailed among Papyrus reeds,
We saw the temples burn
In the light of the desert dawn.
Why do we not return?
Here by our cabin candle,
With Red Indian Gods in the air,
We look at our hieroglyphic book
Till Thoth is standing there.
We look at the hieroglyphic book
Till Hathor shakes her bells,
Till Ra comes from the heavens
And Set comes from the hells.
With Red Indian Gods in the air,
We look at our hieroglyphic book
Till Thoth is standing there.
We look at the hieroglyphic book
Till Hathor shakes her bells,
Till Ra comes from the heavens
And Set comes from the hells.
Man is a mixed breed ever,
Remembering yesterday.
He looks to the East for wisdom,
Westward for his play.
He looks East in old memory,
Westward in new hope.
We rope the wild-west horses,
But scribe Thoth weaves the rope.
We stoop to kiss sweet Hathor
Who sleeps by our fire there;
But just as we have touched her lips,
There's a wild call in the air—
The Mohawk comes, the Mohawk comes,
And we hear his drums roll near
From great Red Eagle Mountain,
Next moment he is here!
Remembering yesterday.
He looks to the East for wisdom,
Westward for his play.
He looks East in old memory,
Westward in new hope.
We rope the wild-west horses,
86
We stoop to kiss sweet Hathor
Who sleeps by our fire there;
But just as we have touched her lips,
There's a wild call in the air—
The Mohawk comes, the Mohawk comes,
And we hear his drums roll near
From great Red Eagle Mountain,
Next moment he is here!
87
THE INDIAN GIRL—MY GRANDMOTHER
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
I think of just one bride
Besides this pale bride here,
It is my Indian grandmother
Of a far yesteryear.
Besides this pale bride here,
It is my Indian grandmother
Of a far yesteryear.
I think of her so often,
Her baskets, feathers, and knives.
I know she was good to her man,
The bravest of wives.
Her baskets, feathers, and knives.
I know she was good to her man,
The bravest of wives.
I am nearer her kin by far,
Than the British who strut and boast
That they are the kin of William the Norman,
And his ravishing host.
Than the British who strut and boast
That they are the kin of William the Norman,
And his ravishing host.
And I back my one drop of blood
From this Indian girl
Against all the blood of the Normans,
Where the British flags unfurl.
From this Indian girl
Against all the blood of the Normans,
Where the British flags unfurl.
88
BEHIND SUN-MOUNTAIN
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
We climbed to the glacier beyond the trail,
Beyond the flowers and the shale and the woods.
We built a campfire there in the rain
Of three old roots, broken to punk,
And our discarded goods.
The campfire burned against the fog,
Against the ice and the rain and snow,
And we asked what the wise in glaciers ought to know.
Beyond the flowers and the shale and the woods.
We built a campfire there in the rain
Of three old roots, broken to punk,
And our discarded goods.
The campfire burned against the fog,
Against the ice and the rain and snow,
And we asked what the wise in glaciers ought to know.
Then on we climbed, and down we climbed,
And built a better fire,
In the night, in the rain, in the fog and snow,
And watched the long night go,
Dry and warm by a glorious furious fire.
At midnight, for an hour, the sky
Was clear as a crystal pool,
Every star in its place,
Each mountain stood in its place
And spelled its name
In the happy midnight hieroglyphic school.
But soon the fog came down again,
Soon to renew the trial.
The great fire dried the rain in the fog,
And dried our shoes and our coats with a smile,
And there we slept awhile.
And built a better fire,
In the night, in the rain, in the fog and snow,
And watched the long night go,
Dry and warm by a glorious furious fire.
At midnight, for an hour, the sky
Was clear as a crystal pool,
Every star in its place,
Each mountain stood in its place
And spelled its name
In the happy midnight hieroglyphic school.
But soon the fog came down again,
Soon to renew the trial.
The great fire dried the rain in the fog,
And dried our shoes and our coats with a smile,
And there we slept awhile.
89
THE FOG COMES AND GOES
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
In the valley of ten thousand flowersThe fog came down, we built a fire
That wiped out fog and dark and rain,
And gave a golden glory to desire.
And there, on a bed of deep pine-boughs
We gloried, and told tales of old.
Strange beasts were rustling in the bush—
We feared not, for one night were bold.
We dragged great logs from the mist's edge.
We built that fire to the great sky,
And midnight saw the great fog lift,
Clear stars and mountains fill the world,
While on that fir-bough bed,
Like mountain-lions in their cave we curled,
Two lovers, conquerors of the fog,
Sheltered by ten great fire-logs,
And conquerors of the world.
90
A GREAT SHADOWY DAY
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
Looking out the window
Of the little log cabin
We found in the lone lorn wood,
We saw the green world passing by
Throughout the shadowy day.
Of the little log cabin
We found in the lone lorn wood,
We saw the green world passing by
Throughout the shadowy day.
Under Mount Custer,
We saw the shadows and we called them good;
Under the high trees,
Under the shadow of the bushes on the cliff,
Under the shadow of the flowers,
And the misty valley's flowery hours,
We saw the shadowy day go by
And found it a pageant and a play.
We found a joy in that great shadowy day.
We saw the shadows and we called them good;
Under the high trees,
Under the shadow of the bushes on the cliff,
Under the shadow of the flowers,
And the misty valley's flowery hours,
We saw the shadowy day go by
And found it a pageant and a play.
We found a joy in that great shadowy day.
91
THE BREATH OF THE WIND
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
The winds that come across the pass to-night
While I watch the fire, hour after hour,
Come from the west, speak of the western sky
That changed from rose to gray,
And gray to rainbow butterfly
And to carnation flower.
All those strange colors change now to strange sounds;
In winds the twilight speaks the whole night through,
And so I heap new logs upon the fire,
And think, my sleeping sweetheart, still, of you.
While I watch the fire, hour after hour,
Come from the west, speak of the western sky
That changed from rose to gray,
And gray to rainbow butterfly
And to carnation flower.
All those strange colors change now to strange sounds;
In winds the twilight speaks the whole night through,
And so I heap new logs upon the fire,
And think, my sleeping sweetheart, still, of you.
Hid there beneath the fir-bough shelter, built
By our own hands at sunset,
Now a dark and darling mystery,
With deeper mysteries to keep.
I hear your breath, oh, sleeping sweetheart,
As you stir in sleep.
So the dark transcends both time and death—
Your whispered breathing is immortal breath.
By our own hands at sunset,
Now a dark and darling mystery,
With deeper mysteries to keep.
I hear your breath, oh, sleeping sweetheart,
As you stir in sleep.
So the dark transcends both time and death—
Your whispered breathing is immortal breath.
92
THE QUAIL RECEIVES A GUEST
The Quail on her nestReceived a little dream-cloud
For a guest.
THE BABY THAT CAME FROM THE FERN
Behold:—Where the Honeymoon trails
Meander and linger
And tangle and turn
The Baby that came
From the curling fern.
94
THE TIME WHEN THINGS HAD BETTER NAMES
The Forest-Ranger's Honeymoon
These flowers and beasts and birds and trees,
Mountains and bees,
Have not the splendid names
They once had long ago,
When you and I sat round the fire,
Our twelve strong sons there in a row,
Centuries ago.
They brought new names
For each new thing
They brought into the campfire ring,
Words our eldest son, the poet,
Then began to sing.
We wove those names into a world,
Centuries ago.
Mountains and bees,
Have not the splendid names
They once had long ago,
When you and I sat round the fire,
Our twelve strong sons there in a row,
Centuries ago.
They brought new names
For each new thing
They brought into the campfire ring,
Words our eldest son, the poet,
Then began to sing.
We wove those names into a world,
Centuries ago.
These rocks and lakes are much the same,
But the old names pass.
We had better names for rivers,
And for the white bear grass.
We had better names for every mountain
And for every tree.
But the old names pass.
We had better names for rivers,
And for the white bear grass.
We had better names for every mountain
And for every tree.
We almost hear them in the night,
Alone by candlelight.
If we wait here by the light,
The names may come to you and me.
Elusive now, hiding now,
The dawn may set them free,
And bring those twelve strong sons
And the eldest son, the singing chieftain,
Back to you and me.
Alone by candlelight.
95
The names may come to you and me.
Elusive now, hiding now,
The dawn may set them free,
And bring those twelve strong sons
And the eldest son, the singing chieftain,
Back to you and me.
96
THE BAT
By the CandleIn the Cabin
I heard the voice
Of a great Pack-rat.
It spoke,
And the vision came—
Just
Like
That.
“The United States
Wears a great black hat.
Behold:—
The descent
Of the Night
On the Mountains—
In the form
Of a great
Black Bat.”
| The candle in the cabin | |