Hiawatha

On the Mountains of the Prairie,
On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
He the Master of Life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together. From his footprints flowed a river,
Leaped into the light of morning,
O'er the precipice plunging downward Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. And the Spirit, stooping earthward,
With his finger on the meadow Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, Run in this way!
From the red stone of the quarry With his hand he broke a fragment,
Moulded it into a pipe-head,
Shaped and fashioned it with figures; From the margin of the river Took a long reed for a pipe-stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it,
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow; Breathed upon the neighboring forest,
Made its great boughs chafe together,
Till in flame they burst and kindled; And erect upon the mountains,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
Smoked the calumet, the Peace-Pipe,
As a signal to the nations. - Taken from The Song of Hiawatha written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow