In some unearthly Chief
Latent behind
Cover of aspen shade.
Skirting the haunted glade
Some one found speech, and prayed.
Was it the wind
Sniffing his cavern or the demon's laughter?
Here from the night he conjured up Hereafter,
Quarried the river-mists to house the unseen.
Only the woodpecker had found life hollow,