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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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all, O Hiawatha!"From the earth he tore the fibres,Tore the tough roots of the Larch-tree,Closely sewed the hark together,Bound it closely to the frame-work."Give me of your balm, O Fir-tree!Of your balsam and your resin,So to close the seams togetherThat the water may not enter,That the river may not wet me!"And the Fir-tree, tall and sombre,Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,Rattled like a shore with pebbles,Answered wailing, answered weeping,"Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"And he took the tears of balsam,Took the resin of the Fir-tree,Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,Made each crevice safe from water."Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!I will make a necklace of them,Make a girdle for my beauty,And two stars to deck her bosom!"From a hollow tree the HedgehogWith his sleepy eyes looked at him,Shot his shining quills, like arrows,Saying with a drowsy murmur,Through the tangle of his whiskers,"Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"From the ground the quills he gathered,All the little shining arrows,Stained them red and blue and yellow,With the juice of roots and berries;Into his canoe he wrought them,Round its waist a shining girdle,Round its bows a gleaming necklace,On its breast two stars resplendent.Thus the Birch Canoe was buildedIn the valley, by the river,In the bosom of the forest;And the forest's life was in it,All its mystery and its magic,All the lightness of the birch-tree,All the toughness of the cedar,All the larch's supple sinews;And it floated on the riverLike a yellow leaf in Autumn,Like a yellow water-lily.Paddles none had Hiawatha,Paddles none he had or needed,For his thoughts as paddles served him,And his wishes served to guide him;Swift or slow at will he glided,Veered to right or left at pleasure.Then he called aloud to Kwasind,To his friend, the strong man, Kwasind,Saying, "Help me clear this riverOf its sunken logs and
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