Part VII: Hiawatha's Sailing
- "Give me of your bark, O Birch-tree!
- Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree!
- Growing by the rushing river,
- Tall and stately in the valley!
- I a light canoe will build me,
- Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
- That shall float on the river,
- Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
- Like a yellow water-lily!
- "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-tree!
- Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
- For the Summer-time is coming,
- And the sun is warm in heaven,
- And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
- Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
- In the solitary forest,
- By the rushing Taquamenaw,
- When the birds were singing gayly,
- In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
- And the sun, from sleep awaking,
- Started up and said, "Behold me!
- Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
- And the tree with all its branches
- Rustled in the breeze of morning,
- Saying, with a sigh of patience,
- "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
- With his knife the tree he girdled;
- Just beneath its lowest branches,
- Just above the roots, he cut it,
- Till the sap came oozing outward;
- Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
- Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
- With a wooden wedge he raised it,
- Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
- "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
- Of your strong and pliant branches,
- My canoe to make more steady,
- Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
- Through the summit of the Cedar
- Went a sound, a cry of horror,
- Went a murmur of resistance;
- But it whispered, bending downward,
- 'Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
- Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,
- Shaped them straightway to a frame-work,
- Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
- Like two bended bows together.
- "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
- Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-tree!
- My canoe to bind together,
- So to bind the ends together
- That the water may not enter,
- That the river may not wet me!"
- And the Larch, with all its fibres,
- Shivered in the air of morning,
- Touched his forehead with its tassels,
- Slid, with one long sigh of sorrow.
- "Take them 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 together
- That 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 Hedgehog
- With 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 builded
- In 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 river
- Like 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 river
- Of its sunken logs and sand-bars."
- Straight into the river Kwasind
- Plunged as if he were an otter,
- Dived as if he were a beaver,
- Stood up to his waist in water,
- To his arm-pits in the river,
- Swam and scouted in the river,
- Tugged at sunken logs and branches,
- With his hands he scooped the sand-bars,
- With his feet the ooze and tangle.
- And thus sailed my Hiawatha
- Down the rushing Taquamenaw,
- Sailed through all its bends and windings,
- Sailed through all its deeps and shallows,
- While his friend, the strong man, Kwasind,
- Swam the deeps, the shallows waded.
- Up and down the river went they,
- In and out among its islands,
- Cleared its bed of root and sand-bar,
- Dragged the dead trees from its channel,
- Made its passage safe and certain,
- Made a pathway for the people,
- From its springs among the mountains,
- To the waters of Pauwating,
- To the bay of Taquamenaw.
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