LAKE SUPERIOR. 127 



Give me of your roots, Tamarack, 

 Of your fibrous roots, Larch-Tree, 

 My canoe to bind together, 

 So to bind the ends together 

 That the water may not enter, 

 That the river may not wet me. 



Give me of your balm, Fir-Tree, 

 Of your balsam and your resin, 

 So to close the seams together 

 That the water may not enter, 

 That the river may not wet me. 



Give me of your quills, Hedgehog, 

 All your quills, Kagh the hedgehog, 

 I will make a necklace of them, 

 Make a girdle for my beauty 

 And two stars to deck her bosom. 



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 magio, 

 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 yellow leaf in Autumn, 

 Like a yellow water-lily." 



And in this thing of life and beauty the fisherman 

 finds his way to the head waters of the smallest 

 brooks or crosses portages from one river to ano- 

 ther, feeling for the time the joys of independence 

 and savage life. 



