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Gordon, Hanford Lennox, 1836-1920

"The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems"


_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 shore,
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.


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