"And thus sailed my Hiawatha,
Down the rushing Taquamenaw,
Sailed through all its bends and windings."
Paddles none had Hiawatha,
Paddles none he had or needed,
For his thoughts as paddles served him,
110And his wishes served to guide him;
Swift or slow at will he glided,
Veered to right or left at pleasure.
Then he called aloud to Kwasind,
To his friend, the strong man, Kwasind,
115Saying, "Help me clear this river
Of its sunken logs and sand-bars,"
Straight into the river Kwasind
Plunged as if he were an otter,
Dived as if he were a beaver,
120Stood up to his waist in water,
To his arm-pits in the river,
Swam and shouted in the river,
Tugged at sunken logs and branches,
With his hands he scooped the sand-bars,
125With his feet the ooze and tangle.
And thus sailed my Hiawatha
Down the rushing Taquamenaw,
Sailed through all its bends and windings,
Sailed through all its deeps and shallows,
130While his friend, the strong man, Kwasind,
Swam the deeps, the shallows waded.
Up and down the river went they,
In and out among its islands,
Cleared its bed of root and sand-bar,
135Dragged the dead trees from its channel,
Made its passage safe and certain,
Made a pathway for the people,
From its springs among the mountains,
To the waters of Pauwating,
140To the bay of Taquamenaw.
