The Song Of Hiawatha — Vocabulary
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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  So they wrestled there together
  In the glory of the sunset,
  And the more they strove and struggled,
  Stronger still grew Hiawatha;
  Till the darkness fell around them,
  And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
  From her nest among the pine-trees,
  Gave a cry of lamentation,
  Gave a scream of pain and famine.†12 more

  and safe from danger;
  Can you not, with all your cunning,
  All your wisdom and contrivance,
  Change me, too, into a beaver?†13 more

  But she heeded not the warning,
  Heeded not those words of wisdom,
  And the West-Wind came at evening,
  Walking lightly o'er the prairie,
  Whispering to the leaves and blossoms,
  Bending low the flowers and grasses,
  Found the beautiful Wenonah,
  Lying there among the lilies,
  Wooed her with his words of sweetness,
  Wooed her with his soft caresses,
  Till she bore a son in sorrow,
  Bore a son of love and sorrow.†10 more

  "All the wild-fowl sang them to him,
  In the moorlands and the fen-lands,
  In the melancholy marshes;
  Chetowaik, the plover, sang them,
  Mahng, the loon, the wild-goose, Wawa,
  The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
  And the grouse, the Mushkodasa!"†10 more

  Would that I had perished for you,
  Would that I were dead as you are!†7 more

  Quiet lay the sturgeon, Nahma,
  Fanning slowly in the water,
  Looking up at Hiawatha,
  Listening to his call and clamor,
  His unnecessary tumult,
  Till he wearied of the shouting;
  And he said to the Kenozha,
  To the pike, the Maskenozha,
  "Take the bait of this rude fellow,
  Break the line of Hiawatha!"†9 more

  Patiently sat Hiawatha,
  Listening to his father's boasting;
  With a smile he sat and listened,
  Uttered neither threat nor menace,
  Neither word nor look betrayed him,
  But his heart was hot within him,
  Like a living coal his heart was.†8 more

  Ye, who sometimes, in your rambles
  Through the green lanes of the country,
  Where the tangled barberry-bushes
  Hang their tufts of crimson berries
  Over stone walls gray with mosses,
  Pause by some neglected graveyard,
  For a while to muse, and ponder
  On a half-effaced inscription,
  Written with little skill of song-craft,
  Homely phrases, but each letter
  Full of hope and yet of heart-break,
  Full of all the tender pathos
  Of the Here and the Hereafter;
  Stay and read this rude inscription,
  Read this Song of Hiawatha!†6 more

  Forth upon the Gitche Gumee,
  On the shining Big-Sea-Water,
  With his fishing-line of cedar,
  Of the twisted bark of cedar,
  Forth to catch the sturgeon Nahma,
  Mishe-Nahma, King of Fishes,
  In his birch canoe exulting
  All alone went Hiawatha.†7 more

  In their faces stern defiance,
  In their hearts the feuds of ages,
  The hereditary hatred,
  The ancestral thirst of vengeance.†6 more

  And the smoke rose slowly, slowly,
  Through the tranquil air of morning,
  First a single line of darkness,
  Then a denser, bluer vapor,
  Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,
  Like the tree-tops of the forest,
  Ever rising, rising, rising,
  Till it touched the top of heaven,
  Till it broke against the heaven,
  And rolled outward all around it.†5 more

  Gitche Manito, the mighty,
  The creator of the nations,
  Looked upon them with compassion,
  With paternal love and pity;
  Looked upon their wrath and wrangling
  But as quarrels among children,
  But as feuds and fights of children!†5 more

  By the signal of the Peace-Pipe,
  Bending like a wand of willow,
  Waving like a hand that beckons,
  Gitche Manito, the mighty,
  Calls the tribes of men together,
  Calls the warriors to his council!†5 more

  But the ruler of the West-Wind
  Blew the fragments backward from him,
  With the breathing of his nostrils,
  With the tempest of his anger,
  Blew them back at his assailant;
  Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,
  Dragged it with its roots and fibres
  From the margin of the meadow,
  From its ooze the giant bulrush;
  Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!†5 more

  When the evening meal was ready,
  And the deer had been divided,
  Both the pallid guests, the strangers,
  Springing from among the shadows,
  Seized upon the choicest portions,
  Seized the white fat of the roebuck,
  Set apart for Laughing Water,
  For the wife of Hiawatha;
  Without asking, without thanking,
  Eagerly devoured the morsels,
  Flitted back among the shadows
  In the corner of the wigwam.†3 more

  From the overhanging branches,
  From the tassels of the birch-trees,
  Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended;
  By his airy hosts surrounded,
  His invisible attendants,
  Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin;
  Like a burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she,
  Like a dragon-fly, he hovered
  O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind.†2 more

  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!"†1 more

  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.†1 more

  On the morrow and the next day,
  When the sun through heaven descending,
  Like a red and burning cinder
  From the hearth of the Great Spirit,
  Fell into the western waters,
  Came Mondamin for the trial,
  For the strife with Hiawatha;
  Came as silent as the dew comes,
  From the empty air appearing,
  Into empty air returning,
  Taking shape when earth it touches,
  But invisible to all men
  In its coming and its going.†1 more

  Sumptuous was the feast Nokomis
  Made at Hiawatha's wedding;
  All the bowls were made of bass-wood,
  White and polished very smoothly,
  All the spoons of horn of bison,
  Black and polished very smoothly.†