Hiawatha, astounded, shocked, then mournfully.
Dead out of the empty heaven,
Dead among the starving people,
Calling to Heaven, despairingly:
Master of Life!
Must our lives depend on these things?
Moans, cries, then softly murmurs.
Ah, showain nemeshin, Nosa!
Pity, pity me, my father!
Pathetically beseeching Minnehaha: