Immortal Fame!—O dust and death!
The centuries as they pass proclaim
That Fame is but a mortal breath,
That man must perish—name and fame.

The earth is but a grain of sand—
An atom in a shoreless sea;
A million worlds lie in God's hand—
Yea, myriad millions—what are we?

O mortal man of bone and blood!
Then is there nothing left but dust?
God made us; He is wise and good,
And we may humbly hope and trust.

WINONA.

When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas and the oriole piped in the maples,
From my hammock, all under the trees, by the sweet-scented field of red clover,
I harked to the hum of the bees, as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
And caught from their low melodies the air of the song of Winona.

(In pronouncing Dakota words give "a" the sound of "ah,"—"e" the sound of "a,"—"i" the sound of "e" and "u" the sound of "oo." Sound "ee" as in English. The numerals refer to Notes in appendix.)

Two hundred white Winters and more have fled from the face of the Summer,
Since here on the oak-shaded shore of the dark-winding, swift Mississippi,
Where his foaming floods tumble and roar o'er the falls and the white-rolling rapids,
In the fair, fabled center of Earth, sat the Indian town of Ka-thá-ga. [[86]]
Far rolling away to the north, and the south, lay the emerald prairies,
All dotted with woodlands and lakes, and above them the blue bent of ether.
And here where the dark river breaks into spray and the roar of the Ha-Ha, [a/][[76]]
Where gathered the bison-skin tees[[F]] of the chief tawny tribe of Dakotas;
For here, in the blast and the breeze, flew the flag of the chief of Isantees, [a/][[86]]
Up-raised on the stem of a lance—the feathery flag of the eagle.
And here to the feast and the dance, from the prairies remote and the forests,
Oft gathered the out-lying bands, and honored the gods of the nation.
On the islands and murmuring strands they danced to the god of the waters,
Unktéhee, [[69]] who dwelt in the caves, deep under the flood of the Ha-Ha; [a/][[76]]
And high o'er the eddies and waves hung their offerings of furs and tobacco,[[G]]
And here to the Master of life—Anpé-tu-wee, [[70]] god of the heavens,
Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife, burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar. [a/][[50]]
And here to the Searcher-of-hearts—fierce Tá-ku Skan-skán, [a/][[51]] the avenger,
Who dwells in the uppermost parts of the earth, and the blue, starry ether,
Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes, the deeds of the wives and the warriors,
As an osprey afar in the skies, sees the fish as they swim in the waters,
Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast, and singing preferred their petitions,
Till the Day-Spirit[a/][[70]] rose in the East—in the red, rosy robes of the morning,
To sail o'er the sea of the skies, to his lodge in the land of the shadows,
Where the black-winged tornadoes[[H]] arise, rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns.
And here with a shudder they heard, flying far from his tee in the mountains,
Wa-kín-yan,[a/][[32]] the huge Thunder-Bird, with the arrows of fire in his talons.

[Illustration: FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY. FACSIMILE OF THE CUT IN CARVER'S TRAVELS, PUBLISHED AT LONDON, IN 1778, FROM A SURVEY AND SKETCH MADE BY CAPT. J. CARVER, NOV. 17, 1766. PERPENDICULAR FALL, 30 FEET; BREADTH NEAR 600 FEET.]