Mahng, the loon, the wild goose, Wawa, If still further you should ask me, I should answer your inquiries And beyond them stood the forest, Stood the groves of singing pine-trees, Ever sighing, ever singing. "And the pleasant water-courses, You could trace them through the valley, By the rushing in the Spring-time, In the green and silent valley. Sang the Song of Hiawatha, That the tribes of men might prosper, That he might advance his people! " Ye who love the haunts of Nature, Love the sunshine of the meadow, Love the shadow of the forest, Love the wind among the branches, And the rain-shower and the snow-storm, And the rushing of great rivers Through their palisades of pine-trees, And the thunder in the mountains, Flap like eagles in their eyries ;- Ye who love a nation's legends, Call to us to pause and listen, To this Song of Hiawatha! Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, Who have faith in God and Nature, Who believe, that in all ages That in even savage bosoms There are longings, yearnings, strivings For the good they comprehend not, That the feeble hands and helpless, Groping blindly in the darkness, massey Touch God's right hand in that darkness 116 And are lifted up and strengthened; Listen to this simple story, To this Song of Hiawatha! Ye, who sometimes, in rambles your Through the green lanes of the country, Hang their tufts of crimson berries Full of hope and yet of heart-break, Full of all the tender pathos |