GENESIS OF THE ROBIN 



die of hunger than that boy and squaw should cry: 'Shame 

 upon your father's son!' Be brave!" 



On the eleventh day the youth had grown so f amt with 

 fasting that his voice could no longer be heard. Still the 

 father said: "Be brave!" And again the dying footsteps 

 and the silence and the hunger! 



While yet the dew glistened on the hemlock boughs, 

 on the following morning the chief hastened to the trial 

 lodge, bearing thick-boiled sap and meat of moose to revive 

 the famished youth. But to his "Rise and eat, my son. Come, 

 the great feast is spread," no answer came. Only an echo 

 was heard. 



As he stopped to listen, a bird, such as he had never seen, 

 on a bough nearby, called to him. Thinking some evil spirit 

 had lured the boy away and had returned in bird form to 

 mock at him, the father raised his bow to shoot. 



"Do not shoot," sang the bird, as if with human tongue. 

 "No evil spirit has harmed me; a good spirit came to me and 

 bade me live. The pathway of the spirits I shall never walk, 

 but will ever live on the earth as you see me now. Though 

 I shall never be a strong warrior, I am still your son and 

 shall always be brave. My food I shall find among the 

 hills and valleys, and in taking it, I shall help your people. 

 Mourn not for me, my father, for my happiness will come 

 through helping others, not through destroying them. And 

 the song I sing from the trees will be what my heart is ever 

 calling: 'Be more gentle; be more loving.' " 



In the moon of melting snows, when the buds swell red 

 on the maples, the opeechee calls in joyful tones to us to-day 

 as he did to the Indian of old. 



In the early morning, before the first faint streaks of 

 dawn appear, out of the graying darkness his glad voice calls 



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