I flaked a flint to a cutting edge And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank And fitted it, head and haft. - Langdon Smith

Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,
And happy we died once more;
Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold
Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled And the sleep that wrapped us fast
Was riven away in a newer day And the night of death was past.

Mindless we lived and mindless we loved And mindless at last we died;
And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift We slumbered side by side.
The world turned on in the lathe of time, The hot lands heaved amain,
Till we caught our breath from the womb of death And crept into light again.

Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes, Loud answered our kith and kin;
From west and east to the crimson feast The clan came tramping in.