Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/166

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Knuckling his laden lids and his tingling noseWith a pudgy fist, and fretfully flinging backHis snowy cover with his petulant fingers.Out on the windy barrens restless bandsOf caribou, rumped up against the gale,Suddenly breaking before the rabid blast,Scampering off like tumbleweeds in a cyclone. . .The low of bulls from the hills where worried moose,Nibbling the willows, the wintergreens, the birches,Were yarding up in the sheltering alder-thicket . . .From the cedar wind-break, the bleat of calves wedged warmAgainst the bellies of their drowsy cows . . .And then the utter calm . . . the wide white driftThat lay upon the world as still and ghastlyAs the winding-sheet of death . . . the sudden snapOf a dry twig . . . the groan of sheeted riversBeating with naked hands upon the ice . . .The brooding night . . . the crackle of cold skies . . .
  "Sh-sh-sh-sh! . . . Look, my frien', . . . somebody's dere! . . .  Ain't? . . . over dere? . . . He's come from dose Land-of-Winter! . . .  Wit' quilt he's cover-um up dose baby mink,  Dose cub, dose wild arbutus, dose jump-up-Johnny . . .  He's keep hees chil'ens warm for long, long winter . . .  Sh-sh-sh-sh! . . . Somebody's dere on de w'ite savanne! . . .  Somebody's dere! . . . He's walk-um in de timber . . .  He's cover-um up hees chil'ens, soft . . . soft ..."
And later, when your bird-claw fingers rippledOver the holes of your cedar Bée-bee-gwúnMellowly in a tender tune, how the stars,Like little children trooping from their teepees,

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