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ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



Motionless his paddle rested; 

 At the third, before his vision 

 Reeled the landscape into darkness, 

 Very sound asleep was Kwasind. 

 So he floated down the river, 

 Like a blind man seated upright, 

 Floated down the Taquamenaw, 

 Underneath the trembling birch trees, 

 Underneath the wooded headlands, 

 Underneath the war encampment 

 Of the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies. 



There they stood, all armed and wait- 

 ing 



Hurled the pine-cones down upon him, 

 Struck him on his brawny shoulders, 

 On his crown defenseless struck him. 

 " Death to Kwasind ! " was the sudden 

 War-cry of the Little People. 



Forth they went into the forest, 

 Bringing fire-wood to the wigwam, 

 Bringing pine-cones for the burning, 

 Always sad and always silent. 



THE FAMINE. 



Forth into the empty forest 

 Rushed the maddened Hiawatha; 

 In his heart was deadly sorrow, 

 In his face a stony firmness; 

 On his brow the sweat of anguish 

 Started, but it froze and fell not. 



Wrapped in furs and armed for hunting, 

 With his mighty bow of ash tree, 

 With his quiver full of arrows, 

 With his mittens, Minjekahwun, 

 Into the vast and vacant forest 



And he sideways swayed and tumbled, On his snow-shoes strode he forward. 



Sideways fell into the river; 

 Plunged beneath the sluggish water 

 Headlong as an otter plunges; 

 And the birch canoe, abandoned, 

 Drifted empty down the river, 

 Bottom upward swerved and drifted: 

 Nothing more was seen of Kwasind. 



But the memory of the Strong Man 

 Lingered long among the people, 

 And whenever through the forest 

 Raged and roared the wintry tempest, 

 And the branches, tossed and troubled, 

 Creaked and groaned and split asunder, 

 " Kwasind!" cried they; " that is Kwasind! 

 He is gathering in his fire-wood ! " 



THE GHOSTS. 



Not a motion made Nokomis, 



Not a gesture Laughing Water; 



Not a change came o'er their features; 



Only Minnehaha softly 



Whispered, saying, " They are famished; 



Let them do what best delights them; 



Let them eat, for they are famished." 



Many a daylight dawned and dark- 

 ened, 



Many a night shook off the daylight 

 As the pine shakes off the snowflakes 

 From the midnight of its branches; 

 Day by day the guests unmoving 

 Sat there silent in the wigwam; 

 But by night, in storm or starlight, 



" Gitche Manito, the Mighty!" 

 Cried he with his face uplifted 

 In that bitter hour of anguish, 

 " Give your children food, O father! 

 Give us food, or we must perish! 

 Give me food for Minnehaha, 

 For my dying Minnehaha! " 



Through the far resounding forest, 

 Through the forest vast and vacant 

 Rang that cry of desolation, 

 But there came no other answer 

 Than the echo of his crying, 

 Than the echo of the woodlands, 

 " Minnehaha! Minnehaha! " 



DEATH OF MINNEHAHA. 



In the wigwam with Nokomis, 

 With those gloomy guests, that watched her. 

 With the Famine and the Fever, 

 She was lying, the Beloved, 

 She the dying Minnehaha. 



" Hark ! " she said ; " I hear a rushing, 

 Hear a roaring and a rushing, 

 Hear the Falls of Minnehaha 

 Calling to me from a distance! " 

 "No, my child!" said old Nokomis, 



" 'Tis the night-wind in the pine trees! " 

 ***** 



Homeward hurried Hiawatha, 

 ***** 



And he rushed into the wigwam, 

 Saw the old Nokomis slowly 



