The Song of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Black with rotting water-rushes,

Rank with flags and leaves of lilies,

Stagnant, lifeless, dreary, dismal,

Lighted by the shimmering moonlight,

And by will-o’-the-wisps illumined,

Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled,

In their weary night-encampments.

All the air was white with moonlight,

All the water black with shadow,

And around him the Suggema,