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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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of the cornfields,To the husking of the maize-ear.On the border of the forest,Underneath the fragrant pine-trees,Sat the old men and the warriorsSmoking in the pleasant shadow.In uninterrupted silenceLooked they at the gamesome laborOf the young men and the women;Listened to their noisy talking,To their laughter and their singing,Heard them chattering like the magpies,Heard them laughing like the blue-jays,Heard them singing like the robins.And whene'er some lucky maidenFound a red ear in the husking,Found a maize-ear red as blood is,"Nushka!" cried they all together,"Nushka! you shall have a sweetheart,You shall have a handsome husband!""Ugh!" the old men all respondedFrom their seats beneath the pine-trees.And whene'er a youth or maidenFound a crooked ear in husking,Found a maize-ear in the huskingBlighted, mildewed, or misshapen,Then they laughed and sang together,Crept and limped about the cornfields,Mimicked in their gait and gesturesSome old man, bent almost double,Singing singly or together:"Wagemin, the thief of cornfields!Paimosaid, who steals the maize-ear!"Till the cornfields rang with laughter,Till from Hiawatha's wigwamKahgahgee, the King of Ravens,Screamed and quivered in his anger,And from all the neighboring tree-topsCawed and croaked the black marauders."Ugh!" the old men all responded,From their seats beneath the pine-trees!

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In those days said Hiawatha,"Lo! how all things fade and perish!From the memory of the old menPass away the great traditions,The achievements of the warriors,The adventures of the hunters,All the wisdom of the Medas,All the craft of the Wabenos,All the marvellous dreams and visionsOf the Jossakeeds, the Prophets!"Great men die and are forgotten,Wise men speak; their words of wisdomPerish in the ears that hear them,Do not reach the generationsThat, as yet unborn, are waitingIn the great, mysterious darknessOf the speechless days that shall be!"On the grave-posts of our fathersAre no signs, no figures painted;Who are in those graves we know not,Only know they are our fathers.Of what kith they are
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