A SONG OF THE SON
My cradle was the atom,
On the breast of the sea I slumbered
Through a long æonian night
And wakened on the morning of the world!
The fern and the shrub and the tree
Were my playmates—
The wind was my nurse
Singing me wild songs.
I stretched out my hands to the rain.
And grew glad in the sun;
I dreamed of my sisters the stars
Of my brother the moon.
I was housed with the cattle;
For them I opened the doors of speech,
Turned their dull dreams
To the words of a song.
To him of the fang I was Terror!
In the light of my face he was furtive,
Shrank back to his den—
Ceasing to tear with his teeth.
I had learned to stand on my feet.
To smite with my hands,
To hurl a huge stone
At python and tiger.
I roared with wild laughter!
In the light of my brother the moon
I danced with my mate
To the dance of my sisters the stars.
At dawn I went forth
To hurl with the hammer
Or thrust with the spear,
And grew heavy from hunting.
I returned to the cave
And saw her white body
Naked against the sun
Red in the west on the mountains.