And “Cicely! Cicely! Cicely!” came from the rocks below,
And jest but a whisper of “Cicely!” down from them peaks of snow.
I ain’t what you call religious,—but I jest looked up to the sky,
And—this ’yer’s to what I’m coming, and maybe ye think I lie:
But up away to the east’ard, yaller and big and far,
I saw of a suddent rising the singlerist kind of star.
Big and yaller and dancing, it seemed to beckon to me:
Yaller and big and dancing, such as you never see:
Big and yaller and dancing,—I never saw such a star,
And I thought of them sharps in the Bible, and I went for it then and thar.