They both were Ricaras, And the Dog was a Ricara Dog; It was many suns ago, Yet ask me not how long, For the warrior cannot tell, But this do I know the rivers ran Through forest, and prairie, and copse, And the mountains were piled to the base of the clouds, And the waters were deep, And the winter was cold, And the summer was hot; Grass grew on the prairies, Flowers bloomed on the lea, The lark sang in the morning, The owl hooted at night, And the world was such a world As the Ricara world is now:-- My brother hears. One was a Ricara boy, And one was a Ricara girl, And one was a Ricara dog. My brother hears. The boy and the girl were lovers, And the dog loved both, They loved each other more Than the soul of an Indian loves his home; The lodge of his wife and babes, Or the graves, The mossy graves, The green and grass-covered graves, Of his fathers mouldered and gone; They loved each other more Than the warrior loves the shout of his foe, Or the festival of scalps, Or the hunter to see the wing, Of a plover beating the air. Their fathers were friends; They dwelt together in one cabin; They hunted the woods together; They warred together, Raising the self-same shout of onset, Waking the self-same song of triumph: Their mothers were sisters; They dwelt together in one cabin; Together they wrought in the field of maize; Each bent her back to the bison's flesh, Load and load alike; And they went to the wild wood together, To bring home the food for the fire; Kind were these sisters to each other; There was always a clear sky[B] in their cabins:-- My brother hears.