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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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cage with rods of silver,And fair Oweenee, the faithful,Bore a son unto Osseo,With the beauty of his mother,With the courage of his father."And the boy grew up and prospered,And Osseo, to delight him,Made him little bows and arrows,Opened the great cage of silver,And let loose his aunts and uncles,All those birds with glossy feathers,For his little son to shoot at."Round and round they wheeled and darted,Filled the Evening Star with music,With their songs of joy and freedomFilled the Evening Star with splendor,With the fluttering of their plumage;Till the boy, the little hunter,Bent his bow and shot an arrow,Shot a swift and fatal arrow,And a bird, with shining feathers,At his feet fell wounded sorely."But, O wondrous transformation!`T was no bird he saw before him,`T was a beautiful young woman,With the arrow in her bosom!"When her blood fell on the planet,On the sacred Star of Evening,Broken was the spell of magic,Powerless was the strange enchantment,And the youth, the fearless bowman,Suddenly felt himself descending,Held by unseen hands, but sinkingDownward through the empty spaces,Downward through the clouds and vapors,Till he rested on an island,On an island, green and grassy,Yonder in the Big-Sea-Water."After him he saw descendingAll the birds with shining feathers,Fluttering, falling, wafted downward,Like the painted leaves of Autumn;And the lodge with poles of silver,With its roof like wings of beetles,Like the shining shards of beetles,By the winds of heaven uplifted,Slowly sank upon the island,Bringing back the good Osseo,Bringing Oweenee, the faithful."Then the birds, again transfigured,Reassumed the shape of mortals,Took their shape, but not their stature;They remained as Little People,Like the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies,And on pleasant nights of Summer,When the Evening Star was shining,Hand in hand they danced togetherOn the island's craggy headlands,On the sand-beach low and level."Still their glittering lodge is seen there,On the tranquil Summer evenings,And upon the shore the fisherSometimes hears
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