The Song of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

He meanwhile sat weary waiting

For the coming of Mondamin,

Till the shadows, pointing eastward,

Lengthened over field and forest,

Till the sun dropped from the heaven,

Floating on the waters westward,

As a red leaf in the Autumn

Falls and floats upon the water,

Falls and sinks into its bosom.

And behold! the young Mondamin,