III
Time was kindly with this people
In the ancient Vale of Pecos,
In their citadel enseated
High above the scarred arroyo,
High upon the brunting mesa.
There within the storeyed houses
Built about their dancing plaza,
Walled against the foeman’s onslaught,
Walled and towered and ever watchful,
Safe and happy dwelt the people:
With their cornfields round about them
In the pleasant watered valleys,
Fair with corn of many colors
Sacred to the Guardian Mothers——
White of Morn and blue of Zenith,
Yellow for the burning Sunset,
Speckled for the cloudy Northland:
Earth and Sky have many colors,
So the corn has colors many
Sacred to the Guardian Mothers:
With their cornfields and their beanfields,
With their vines of squash and pumpkin,
With their sunflowers and tobacco,
Dwelt the olden folk of Pecos
Rich and happy in their valley:
And the fires upon their hearth-stones
Glowed at dawn and glowed at twilight,
And the wavering smoke ascended
Quiet into quiet heavens——
Till the city seemed reflected
In the vaporous blue of noonday,
In the gleaming stars of night-time:
And the women at their grinding
Sang the Song of Fruitful Pollen;
And the maidens at their spinning
Sang the Breath-song of the Cotton;
And they wove their baskets singing,
Singing modelled earthen vessels,
Painted brown and black and yellow
With the symbols of the Cloud-Folk,
Of the Mist-Folk and the Rain-Folk,
And the sudden zig-zag Lightning——
And they left the life-line broken
For the spirit of the vessel
That it might not be imprisoned
In the moulded clay forever:
And the menfolk in the cornfields
Sang the Song of Winter Breaking,
Sang the Springtime and the Seeding,
Sang the Tasseling and Summer,
Sang the Fruitfulness of Harvest,
And the Life that stirs in all things:
And within their sacred Kivas,
Where the Priests and Elders gathered
Round their Totems and their Altars,
Underneath the painted symbol
Of the Plumed and Crested Serpent,
There they sang their Spirit Ancients
And the deeds of mighty Heroes,
Of the Brothers armed with sunbeams
Where they slew the hateful monsters
When the Primal People wandered
And the World was in its making:
And within the sacred Kivas
Said the prayers their sires had taught them,
That the tribe might live forever
Fathered by the Shining Heaven,
Mothered on Earth’s fruitful bosom,
With the Winds forever breathing
Fourfold Life from out the Quarters
Of the fourfold World man dwells in:
And the men and women gathered,
And the young men and the maidens,
And the children and the strangers,
When above the Kivas flaunted
Banners brilliant with bright feathers
Telling of the coming feast-day
With the dancing and the chanting
And the altars set with prayer-plumes,
Where the grave-faced Priests and Elders
Smoked before the sacred emblems
Of the Powers that watched the nation:
In the ancient Vale of Pecos,
In its days of peace and plenty,
When the people lived securely
In their citadel enseated
High above the scarred arroyo,
High upon their granite mesa.