The Song of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In his crown too was his weakness;

There alone could he be wounded,

Nowhere else could weapon pierce him,

Nowhere else could weapon harm him.

Even there the only weapon

That could wound him, that could slay him,

Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree,

Was the blue cone of the fir-tree.

This was Kwasind’s fatal secret,

Known to no man among mortals;