The Song of Hiawatha

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

All the leaves from all the branches

Fall and fade and die and wither,

For I breathe, and lo! they are not.

From the waters and the marshes,

Rise the wild goose and the heron,

Fly away to distant regions,

For I speak, and lo! they are not.

And where’er my footsteps wander,

All the wild beasts of the forest

Hide themselves in holes and caverns,