When the tassels plume, O-na-tah is crowning the maize with her triumph sign, and the rustling leaves spear to the harvest breeze.
MONDAMIN
Summer passed and Shawondasee Breathed his sighs o’er all the landscape, From the South-land sent his ardours, Wafted kisses warm and tender; And the maize-field grew and ripened, Till it stood in all the splendour Of its garments green and yellow, Of its tassels and its plumage, And the maize-ears full of shining Gleamed from bursting sheaths of verdure. Then Nokomis, the old woman, Spake, and said to Minnehaha, “’Tis the Moon when leaves are falling, All the wild rice has been gathered, And the maize is ripe and ready; Let us gather in the harvest, Let us wrestle with Mondamin, Strip him of his plumes and tassels, Of his garments green and yellow.” And the merry Laughing Water Went rejoicing from the wigwam, With Nokomis, old and wrinkled, And they called the women round them, Called the young men and the maidens, To the harvest of the cornfields, To the husking of the maize-ear. Henry W. Longfellow.
THE DISCONTENTED PUMPKIN
Jack Frost visited Farmer Crane’s field one night, and the next morning the gold of the pumpkins shone more brilliantly than ever through their silver coverings.
“It is of no use,” said one large pumpkin to another lying beside it. “It is of no use. I was never made to be cut up for pumpkin pies. I feel I was put here for something higher.”