A Confluence of Mere Cabals

at the niger chambers where a pensive-calm dwells amid nature and the hill-top lads – the mouth-piece of the serene clan! – where as many a lonely weaver she stands o, where the now-weird homestead stands – the epitome of native caves and mounts! – ’tis like a confluence of cabals that clenches our world, a new world deep in the forests; aloft of the ancient world of weavers and eaglets an ancient world of the mother of the amazons – there! we wait! the microcosm of new maidens! – the new mouth-piece of a new serene clan! – a confluence of mere cabals clench’ng our clan; o, drum for these lonely weavers of the forests!