Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/101

 "Silence, you gods!"—"Pinch Fanny!"—"Now we're good.") This place where we are sitting was a wood, Savage and desert save for one rude home Of wattles plastered with stiff clay and loam; And here, in front, upon the grassy mire Four naked squaws were squatted round a fire: Then four tall naked wild men crushing through The tangled underwood came into view; Two of them bent beneath a mighty boar, The third was gashed and bleeding, number four Strutted full-drest in war-paint, ("That was Dick!") Blue of a devilish pattern laid on thick. The squaws jumped up to roast the carcass whole; The braves sank silent, stark 'gainst root and bole. The meat half-done, they tore it and devoured, Sullenly ravenous; the women cowered Until their lords had finished, then partook. Mist rose; all crept into their cabin-nook, And staked the mouth; the floor was one broad bed Of rushes dried with fox and bear skins spread. Wolves howled and wild cats wailed; they snored; and so The long night passed, shedding a storm of snow; This very night ten thousand years ago.