The Song of Hiawatha   ::   Longfellow Henry Wadsworth

"

Thus continued Hiawatha,

And then added, speaking slowly,

"That this peace may last forever,

And our hands be clasped more closely,

And our hearts be more united,

Give me as my wife this maiden,

Minnehaha, Laughing Water,

Loveliest of Dacotah women!"

And the ancient Arrow-maker

Paused a moment ere he answered,

Smoked a little while in silence,

Looked at Hiawatha proudly,

Fondly looked at Laughing Water,

And made answer very gravely:

"Yes, if Minnehaha wishes;

Let your heart speak, Minnehaha!"

And the lovely Laughing Water

Seemed more lovely as she stood there,

Neither willing nor reluctant,

As she went to Hiawatha,

Softly took the seat beside him,

While she said, and blushed to say it,

"I will follow you, my husband!"

This was Hiawatha's wooing!

Thus it was he won the daughter

Of the ancient Arrow-maker,

In the land of the Dacotahs!

From the wigwam he departed,

Leading with him Laughing Water;

Hand in hand they went together,

Through the woodland and the meadow,

Left the old man standing lonely

At the doorway of his wigwam,

Heard the Falls of Minnehaha

Calling to them from the distance,

Crying to them from afar off,

"Fare thee well, O Minnehaha!"

And the ancient Arrow-maker

Turned again unto his labor,

Sat down by his sunny doorway,

Murmuring to himself, and saying:

"Thus it is our daughters leave us,

Those we love, and those who love us!

Just when they have learned to help us,

When we are old and lean upon them,

Comes a youth with flaunting feathers,

With his flute of reeds, a stranger

Wanders piping through the village,

Beckons to the fairest maiden,

And she follows where he leads her,

Leaving all things for the stranger!"

Pleasant was the journey homeward,

Through interminable forests,

Over meadow, over mountain,

Over river, hill, and hollow.

Short it seemed to Hiawatha,

Though they journeyed very slowly,

Though his pace he checked and slackened

To the steps of Laughing Water.

Over wide and rushing rivers

In his arms he bore the maiden;

Light he thought her as a feather,

As the plume upon his head-gear;

Cleared the tangled pathway for her,

Bent aside the swaying branches,

Made at night a lodge of branches,

And a bed with boughs of hemlock,

And a fire before the doorway

With the dry cones of the pine-tree.

All the travelling winds went with them,

O'er the meadows, through the forest;

All the stars of night looked at them,

Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber;

From his ambush in the oak-tree

Peeped the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

Watched with eager eyes the lovers;

And the rabbit, the Wabasso,

Scampered from the path before them,

Peering, peeping from his burrow,

Sat erect upon his haunches,

Watched with curious eyes the lovers.