The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems Part 37

In it stood Anpetu-sapa--in her arms her sleeping child; Like a wailing Norse-land _drapa_ [CO] rose her death-song weird and wild:

[CK] _A-pe_--leaf,--_duta_--Scarlet,--Scarlet leaf

[CL] Stars, the Dakotas say, are the faces of the departed watching over their friends and relatives on earth.

[CM] The Dakotas called the Jesuit priests "Black Robes," from the color of their vestments.

[CN] _Wee-tah Wah-stay_--Beautiful Island,--the Dakota name for Nicollet Island, just above the Falls.

[CO] _Drapa_, a Norse funeral wail in which the virtues of the deceased are recounted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ANPETU-SAPA]

_Mihihna_,[CP] _Mihihna_, my heart is stone; The light is gone from my longing eyes; The wounded loon in the lake alone Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, the path is long, The burden is heavy and hard to bear; I sink--I die, and my dying song Is a song of joy to the false one's ear.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, my young heart flew Far away with my brave to the bison-chase; To the battle it went with my warrior true, And never returned till I saw his face.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, my brave was glad When he came from the chase of the roebuck fleet; Sweet were the words that my hunter said As his trophies he laid at Anpetu's feet.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, the boy I bore-- When the robin sang and my brave was true, I can bear to look on his face no more, For he looks, _Mihihna_, so much like you.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, the Scarlet Leaf Has robbed my boy of his father's love; He sleeps in my arms--he will find no grief In the star-lit lodge in the land above.

_Mihihna, Mihihna_, my heart is stone; The light is gone from my longing eyes; The wounded loon in the lake alone Her death-song sings to the moon and dies.

[CP] _Mee-heen-yah_--My husband.

Swiftly down the turbid torrent, as she sung her song she flew; Like a swan upon the current, dancing rode the light canoe.

Hunters hurry in the gloaming; all in vain Wanata calls; Singing through the surges foaming, lo she plunges o'er the Falls.

Long they searched the sullen river--searched for leagues along the sh.o.r.e, Bark or babe or mother never saw the sad Dakotas more; But at night or misty morning oft the hunters heard her song, Oft the maidens heard her warning in their mellow mother-tongue.

On the bluffs they sat enchanted till the blush of beamy dawn; Spirit Isle, they say, is haunted, and they call the spot Wakan[CQ]

Many summers on the highland in the full moon's golden glow-- In the woods on Fairy Island,[CR] walked a snow-white fawn and doe-- Spirits of the babe and mother sadly seeking evermore For a father's love another turned away with evil power.

Sometimes still when moonbeams s.h.i.+mmer through the maples on the lawn, In the gloaming and the glimmer walk the silent doe and fawn; And on Spirit Isle or near it, under midnight's misty moon, Oft is seen the mother's spirit, oft is heard her mournful tune.

[CQ] p.r.o.nounced Walk-on,--Sacred, inhabited by a spirit.

[CR] Fairy Island,--_Wita-Waste_--Nicollet Island.

CHICKADEE

Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee!

That was the song that he sang to me--Sang from his perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

My little brown bird, The song that I heard Was a happier song than the minstrels sing-- A paean of joy and a carol of spring; And my heart leaped throbbing and sang with thee Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

My birdie looked wise With his little black eyes, As he peeked and peered from his perch at me With a throbbing throat and a flutter of glee, As if he would say-- Sing trouble away, Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

Only one note From his silver throat; Only one word From my wise little bird; But a sweeter note or a wiser word From the tongue of mortal I never have heard, Than my little philosopher sang to me From his bending perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

Come foul or fair, Come trouble and care-- No--never a sigh Or a thought of despair!

For my little bird sings in my heart to me, As he sang from his perch in the willow tree-- Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee dee: Chickadee-dee, chickadee-dee; Chickadee, chickadee, chickadee-dee.

ANTHEM

[APRIL, 1861.]

Spirit of Liberty, Wake in the Land!

Sons of our Forefathers, Raise the strong hand!

Burn in each heart anew Liberty's fires; Wave the old Flag again, Flag of our sires; Glow all thy stars again, Banner of Light!

Wave o'er us forever, Emblem of might; G.o.d for our Banner!

G.o.d for the Right!

Minions of Tyranny, Tremble and kneel!

The sons of the Pilgrims Are sharpening their steel.

Pledge for our Land again Honor and life; Wave the old Flag again; On to the strife!

Shades of our Forefathers, Witness our fright!

Wave o'er us forever, Emblem of might; G.o.d for our Banner!

G.o.d for our Right!

HURRAH FOR THE VOLUNTEERS

[May, 1861.]

Come then, brave men, from the Land of Lakes With steady steps and cheers; Our country calls, as the battle breaks, On the Northwest Pioneers.

Let the eagle scream, and the bayonet gleam!

Hurrah for the Volunteers!

CHARGE OF "THE BLACK-HORSE"

[First battle of Bull Run.]