And all at once it has passed me there,
Lilting back to the land of the air,
Back to the land of the great white stills:
Is it only the wind that comes down from the hills?
Was it Pikes Peak Pixie or Cheyenne Shee
That whispered a gay little rhyme to me?
Or a gnome that lives in the heart of a stone
And dances at dawn around Cameron's Cone?
Did the haunting laugh of the Maid of the Corn,
An Aztec memory trill on the morn?
Or soft did the Navajo Shell-Woman speak
As she passed with a hymn for the great white peak?
They touch me light with their finger tips
And lay little snatch
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