The Song of Hiawatha   ::   Longfellow Henry Wadsworth

"Wed a maiden of your people,"

Warning said the old Nokomis;

"Go not eastward, go not westward,

For a stranger, whom we know not!

Like a fire upon the hearth-stone

Is a neighbor's homely daughter,

Like the starlight or the moonlight

Is the handsomest of strangers!"

Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,

And my Hiawatha answered

Only this: "Dear old Nokomis,

Very pleasant is the firelight,

But I like the starlight better,

Better do I like the moonlight!"

Gravely then said old Nokomis:

"Bring not here an idle maiden,

Bring not here a useless woman,

Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;

Bring a wife with nimble fingers,

Heart and hand that move together,

Feet that run on willing errands!"

Smiling answered Hiawatha:

"In the land of the Dacotahs

Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter,

Minnehaha, Laughing Water,

Handsomest of all the women.

I will bring her to your wigwam,

She shall run upon your errands,

Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,

Be the sunlight of my people!"

Still dissuading said Nokomis:

"Bring not to my lodge a stranger

From the land of the Dacotahs!

Very fierce are the Dacotahs,

Often is there war between us,

There are feuds yet unforgotten,

Wounds that ache and still may open!"

Laughing answered Hiawatha:

"For that reason, if no other,

Would I wed the fair Dacotah,

That our tribes might be united,

That old feuds might be forgotten,

And old wounds be healed forever!"

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 outran 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.

"Pleasant is the sound!" he murmured,

"Pleasant is the voice that calls me!"

On the outskirts of the forests,

'Twixt the shadow and the sunshine,

Herds of fallow deer were feeding,

But they saw not Hiawatha;

To his bow he whispered, "Fail not!"

To his arrow whispered, "Swerve not!"

Sent it singing on its errand,

To the red heart of the roebuck;

Threw the deer across his shoulder,

And sped forward without pausing.