The Caves Of Auvergne

He carved the red deer and the bull      Upon the smooth cave rock,     Returned from war with belly full,      And scarred with many a knock,     He carved the red deer and the bull      Upon the smooth cave rock.     The stars flew by the cave's wide door,      The clouds wild trumpets blew,     Trees rose in wild dreams from the floor,      Flowers with dream faces grew     Up to the sky, and softly hung      Golden and white and blue.     The woman ground her heap of corn,      Her heart a guarded fire;     The wind played in his trembling soul      Like a hand upon a lyre,     The wind drew faintly on the stone      Symbols of his desire:     The red deer of the forest dark,      Whose antlers cut the sky,     That vanishes into the mirk      And like a dream flits by,     And by an arrow slain at last      Is but the wind's dark body.     The bull that stands in marshy lakes      As motionless and still     As a dark rock jutting from a plain      Without a tree or hill,     The bull that is the sign of life,      Its sombre, phallic will.     And from the dead, white eyes of them      The wind springs up anew,     It blows upon the trembling heart,      And bull and deer renew     Their flitting life in the dim past      When that dead Hunter drew.     I sit beside him in the night,      And, fingering his red stone,     I chase through endless forests dark      Seeking that thing unknown,     That which is not red deer or bull,      But which by them was shown:     By those stiff shapes in which he drew      His soul's exalted cry,     When flying down the forest dark      He slew and knew not why,     When he was filled with song, and strength      Flowed to him from the sky.     The wind blows from red deer and bull,      The clouds wild trumpets blare,     Trees rise in wild dreams from the earth,      Flowers with dream faces stare,     'O Hunter, your own shadow stands      Within your forest lair!'