Chibiabos, the musician, And the very strong man, Kwasind, And then added, speaking slowly, And the ancient Arrow-maker Let your heart speak, Minnehaha !" As she went to Hiawatha, Softly took the seat beside him, While she said, and blushed to say it, "I will follow you, my husband!" From the wigwam he departed, Through the woodland and the meadow, And she follows where he leads her, Though they journeyed very slowly, Over wide and rushing rivers In his arms he bore the maiden; All the traveling winds went with them, O'er the meadows, through the forest; All the stars of night looked at them, Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber; From his ambush in the oak-tree Peeped the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Watched with eager eyes the lovers; And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Scampered from the path before them. Peering, peeping from his burrow, Sat erect upon his haunches, Watched with curious eyes the lovers. Pleasant was the journey homeward! All the birds sang loud and sweetly Songs of happiness and heart's-ease; Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, "Happy are you, Hiawatha, Having now a wife to love you!" Sang the robin, the Opechee, "Happy are you, Laughing Water, Having such a noble husband!" From the sky the sun benignant Looked upon them through the branches, From the sky the moon looked at them, Half is mine, although I follow; Rule by patience, Laughing Water!" Thus it was they journeyed homeward; Thus it was that Hiawatha To the lodge of old Nokomis Brought the moonlight, starlight, firelight, Brought the sunshine of his people,、 Minnehaha, Laughing Water, In the land of handsome women. 5. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892), the Quaker poet, was reared on a farm and never went to college. He became an abolitionist and devoted himself to the cause of the slave. Emancipation was the theme of many of his poems before the Civil War. It was after the war (in 1866) that he published his masterpiece Snow-Bound, which gives a vivid picture of New England farm life in winter. This ranks with Goldsmith's Deserted Village and Burns's The Cotter's Saturday Night as one of the best pictures of homely domestic life. THE FROST SPIRIT He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown hill's withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth. He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes !—from the frozen Labrador, From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o'er, Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues grow! He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes !—on the rushing Northern blast, And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful breath went past. With an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the fires of Hecla glow On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice below. He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes !—and the quiet lake shall feel The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the skater's heel; And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or sang to the leaning grass, Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful silence pass. He comes, he comes, the Frost Spirit comes!-let us meet him as we may, And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power away; And gather closer the circle round, when that firelight dances high, And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sounding wing goes by! MAUD MULLER Maud Muller, on a summer's day Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee But when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest |