“From his pipe the smoke ascending
Filled the sky with haze and vapor,
Filled the air with dreamy softness,
Gave a twinkle to the water,
Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,
Brought the tender Indian Summer
To the melancholy north-land,
In the dreary moon of Snow-shoes.”
Once Shawondasee thought he saw a maiden with golden tresses standing far away in the meadow. He loved her, but was too lazy to bestir himself to woo her. After watching her for some time, and always loving her, alas! her golden hair changed to white floss and was blown about the prairie.
Shawondasee was sad, and he thought that his brother Kabibonokka had turned her hair from gold to white. But it was no maiden he had seen. It was only the prairie dandelion.
LITTLE DANDELION.
Gay little Dandelion
Lights up the meads,
Swings on her slender foot,
Telleth her beads;
Lists to the robin’s note
Poured from above:
Wise little Dandelion
Asks not for love.
Cold lie the daisy banks
Clothed but in green,
Where in the days agone
Bright hues were seen.
Wild pinks are slumbering;
Violets delay:
True little Dandelion
Greeteth the May.
Brave little Dandelion;
Fast falls the snow,
Bending the daffodil’s
Haughty head low.
Under that fleecy tent,
Careless of cold,
Blithe little Dandelion
Counteth her gold.
Meek little Dandelion
Groweth more fair,
Till dies the amber dew
Out from her hair.
High rides the thirsty sun,
Fiercely and high;
Faint little Dandelion
Closeth her eye.
Pale little Dandelion,
In her white shroud,
Heareth the angel breeze
Call from the cloud.
Tiny plumes fluttering
Make no delay;
Little winged Dandelion
Soareth away.