Page:Many Many Moons.djvu/27

To be chanted
from this point
on—slower in
rate—higher
and higher in
pitch—mount-
ing to melan-
choly wailing.
Stalking on the frozen lake.
Lean-bellied,
Squatting with his rump upon the ice,
The phantom wolf will fling
His wailings to the stars.
Then Weén-di-go, the Devil-Spirit,
Whining through the lodge-poles,
Will clutch and shake my teepee,
Calling,
Calling,
Calling as he sifts into my lodge;
And ghostly little shadow-arms
Will float out through
The smoke-hole in the night—
Leaping, tossing shadow-arms,
A sustained

wailing chant,

gathering power

steadily.

Little arms of little children,
Hungry hands of shadow-arms,
Clutching,
Clutching,
Clutching at the breast that is not there. . .
Shadow-arms and shadow breasts. . .
Twisting,
Twisting,
Twisting in and twisting out
On the ghastly clouds of smoke. . .
Riding on the whistling wind. . . .
Riding on the whistling wind. . . . . . .
Riding on the whistling wind. . . . . . . . . . .
Starward!. . .
Blow, blow, blow Kee-wáy-din, North Wind,
Warm and gentle on my children,