224 



ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



That the river may not wet me! " 



And the Fir tree tall and sombre, 

 Sobbed through all its robes of darkness, 

 Rattled like a shore with pebbles, 

 Ans%vered wailing, answered weeping, 

 "Take my balm, O, Hiawatha!" 



And he took the tears of balsam, 

 Took the resin of the Fir tree, 

 Smeared therewith each seam and fissure, 

 Made each crevice safe from water. 



***** 



Thus the Birch Canoe was builded 

 In the valley, by the river, 

 In the bosom of the forest ; 

 And the forest's life was in it, 

 All its mystery and its magic, 

 All the lightness of the birch tree, 

 All the toughness of the cedar, 

 All the larch's supple sinews; 

 And it floated on the river 

 Like a jellow leaf in autumn, 

 Like a yellow water-lily. 



HIAWATHA AND THE PEARL FEATHER. 

 The Battle with IMcgissog-iuon. The Woodpecker, 



Then began the greatest battle 

 That the sun had ever looked on, 



That the war-birds ever witnessed. 



***** 



Till at sunset Hiawatha 

 Leaning on his bow of ash tree, 

 Wounded, weary, and desponding, 

 With his might}- war-club broken, 

 With his mittens torn and tattered, 

 And three useless arrows only, 

 Paused to rest beneath a pine tree, 

 From whose branches trailed the mosses, 

 And whose trunk was coated over 

 With the Dead-man's Moccasin-leather, 



With the fungus white and yellow. 

 Suddenly from the boughs above him 

 Sang the Ma'ma, the woodpecker : 

 "Aim your arrows, Hiawatha, 

 At the head of Megissog'vvon, 

 Strike the tuft of hair upon it, 

 At their roots the long black tresses ; 

 There alone can he be wounded! " 



Swift flew Hiawatha's arrow, 



Swifter flew the second arrow, 

 ***** 



But the third and latest arrow 

 Swiftest flew, and wounded sorest. 



***** 



At the feet of Hiawatha 

 Lifeless lay the great Pearl-feather, 

 Lay the mightiest of Magicians. 

 Then the grateful Hiawatha 

 Called the Ma'ma, the woodpecker, 

 From his perch among the branches 

 Of the melancholy pine tree, 

 And, in honor of his service, 

 Stained with blood the tuft of feathers 

 On the little head of Ma'ma ; 

 Even to this day he wears it, 

 Wears the tuft of crimson feathers, 

 As a symbol of his service. 



HIAWATHA'S WOOING. 



Thus departed Hiawatha 

 To the land of the Dacotahs, 

 To the land of handsome women ; 

 Striding over moor and meadow, 

 Through interminable forests, 

 Through uninterrupted silence. 



With his moccasins of magic, 

 At each stride a mile he measured; 

 Yet the way seemed long before him, 

 And his heart outrun his footsteps; 

 And he journeyed without resting, 

 Till he heard the cataract's laughter, 

 Heard the falls of Minnehaha 



Calling to him through the silence. 



***** 



She was thinking of a hunter, 

 From another tribe and country, 

 Young and tall and very handsome, 

 Who, one morning, in the Spring-time, 

 Came to buy her father's arrows, 

 Sat and rested in the wigwam, 

 Lingered long about the doorway, 

 Looking back as he departed. 



***** 



Would he come again for arrows 

 To the Falls of Minnehaha ? 

 On the mat her hands lay idle, 

 And her eyes were very dreamy. [step, 



Through their thoughts they heard a foot- 



