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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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unfolded."Only Oweenee, the youngest,Was not changed, but sat in silence,Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly,Looking sadly at the others;Till Osseo, gazing upward,Gave another cry of anguish,Such a cry as he had utteredBy the oak-tree in the forest."Then returned her youth and beauty,And her soiled and tattered garmentsWere transformed to robes of ermine,And her staff became a feather,Yes, a shining silver feather!"And again the wigwam trembled,Swayed and rushed through airy currents,Through transparent cloud and vapor,And amid celestial splendorsOn the Evening Star alighted,As a snow-flake falls on snow-flake,As a leaf drops on a river,As the thistledown on water."Forth with cheerful words of welcomeCame the father of Osseo,He with radiant locks of silver,He with eyes serene and tender.And he said: `My son, Osseo,Hang the cage of birds you bring there,Hang the cage with rods of silver,And the birds with glistening feathers,At the doorway of my wigwam.'"At the door he hung the bird-cage,And they entered in and gladlyListened to Osseo's father,Ruler of the Star of Evening,As he said: `O my Osseo!I have had compassion on you,Given you back your youth and beauty,Into birds of various plumageChanged your sisters and their husbands;Changed them thus because they mocked youIn the figure of the old man,In that aspect sad and wrinkled,Could not see your heart of passion,Could not see your youth immortal;Only Oweenee, the faithful,Saw your naked heart and loved you."`In the lodge that glimmers yonder,In the little star that twinklesThrough the vapors, on the left hand,Lives the envious Evil Spirit,The Wabeno, the magician,Who transformed you to an old man.Take heed lest his beams fall on you,For the rays he darts around himAre the power of his enchantment,Are the arrows that he uses.'"Many years, in peace and quiet,On the peaceful Star of EveningDwelt Osseo with his father;Many years, in song and flutter,At the doorway of the wigwam,Hung the
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