incantations (part 2)

by the shores 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 neighboring forest

passed in golden swarms 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 it's bosom leaped the sturgeon

sparkling

flashing in the sunshine;

on it's margin the great forest

stood reflected in the water

every tree-top had it's shadow

motionless beneath the water. from the brow of hiawatha

gone was every trace of sorrow

as the fog from off the water

as the mist from off 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 toward it

and between the parted fingers

fell 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 mists 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-wana

with the water dripping

flashing

from it's glossy neck and feathers?

it was neither goose nor 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 on the water

dripping

flashing in the sunshine;

and within it came a people

can it be the sun descending

o'er the level plain of water?

or the red swan floating

flying

wounded by the magic arrow

staining all the waves with crimson

with the crimson of it's life-blood

filling all the air with splendor

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 it's wings are lifted

with it's 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.