Hiawatha's Departure


By The Shore Of Gitche Gumee 

By The Shining Big-Sea-Water 

At The Doorway Of The Wigwam 

In The Early Summer Morning 


Hiawatha Stood And Waited 

All The Air Was Full Of Freshness 

All The Earth Was Bright And Joyous 

And Before Him Through The Sunshine 


Westward Toward The Neighbouring Forest 

Passed In Golden Swams, The Ahmo 

Passed The Bees, The Honey-Makers 

Burning, Singing In The Sunshine 


Bright Above Him Shone The Heavens 

Level Spread The Lake Before Him; 

From Its Bosom Leaped The Sturgeon 

Sparkling, Flashing In The Sunshine 


On Its Margin The Great Forest 

Stood Reflected In The Water 

Every Tree-Top Had Its Shadow 

Motionless Beneath The Water 


From The Bow Of Hiawatha 

Gone Was Every Trace Of Sorrow 

As The Fog From Off The Water 

As The Mist Of The Meadow 


With A Smile Of Joy And Gladness 

With A Look Of Exultation 

As Of One Who In A Vision 

Sees What Is To Be, But Is Not 


Stood And Waited Hiawatha 

Toward The Sun His Hands Were Lifted 

Both The Palms Spread Out Towards It 

And Between The Parted Fingers 


Feel The Sunshine On His Features 

Flecked With Light His Naked Shoulders 

As It Falls And Flecks An Oak-Tree 

Through The Rifted Leaves And Branches 


O'er The Water Floating, Flying 

Something In The Hazy Distance 

Something In The Mist Of Morning 

Loomed And Lifted From The Water 

Now Seemed Floating, Now Seemed Flying 

Coming Nearer, Nearer, Nearer 

Was It Shingebis, The Diver? 

Or The Pelican, The Shada? 


Or The Heron, The Shuh-Shuh-Gah? 

Or The White Goose, Waw-Be-Wawa, 

With The Water Dripping, Flashing 

From Its Glossy Neck And Feathers? 


It Was Neither Goose Or Diver 

Neither Pelican Nor Heron 

O'er The Water Floating, Flying 

Through The Shining Mist Of Morning 


But A Birch Canoe With Paddles 

Rising, Sinking In The Sunshine 

Dripping, Flashing In The Sunshine 

And Within It Came A People 


The Song Of The Evening Star


Can It Be The Sun Descending 

O'er The Level Plain Of Water 

Or The Red Swan Floatin, Flying 

Wounded By The Magic Arrow 


Staining All The Waves With Crimson 

With The Crimson Of Its Lifeblood 

Filling All The Air With Splendour 

Filling All The Air With Plumage 


Yes, It Is The Sun Descending 

Sinking Down Into The Water 

All The Sky Is Stained With Purple 

All The Water Flushed With Crimson! 


No, It Is The Red Swan Floating 

Diving Down Beneath The Water 

To The Sky Its Wings Are Lifted 

With Its Blood The Waves Are Reddened! 


Over It The Star Of Evening 

Melts And Trembles Through The Purple 

Hangs Suspended In The Twilight 

Walks In Silence Through The Heavens!