Page:Many Many Moons.djvu/89

Lo! and Death walks with the Indian
On the bottom of the lake,
Beneath the crazy-waters,
Crashing up and rolling over . . .
Crashing up . . . and rolling over . . .
Crashing up . . . and rolling over . . .
Rolling . . . rolling . . .
Rolling over . . . over . . .
Rolling . . . rolling . . . rolling . . .

·····

Now the dripping sun is laughing in the rainbow-sky,
On the quivering silver birches on the land;
And the laughing little waters with their little white feet,
Quietly with
a lilt.
Run pattering on the shifting yellow sand.
But the Devil-Spirit, Much-ie Má-ni-dó,
Is walking on the bottom of the lake,
In the drifting tangled weeds,
In the water shimmering green
Where the fishes flash
And shiver in the sun.
He is shaking his big belly,
He is winking his red eye
At the Long-Knife who stands chuckling
Where the waters wash the shore,
At the buzzard-taloned white man
Who stands gazing at the bottom of the waters.

Ugh! Crazy Long-Knife! . . .