But the Sea-Gull murmured never,
Not a word she spoke in anger,
Went about her work as ever,
Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer,
Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
Gathered rushes from the marshes;
Deftly into mats she wove them;
Kept the lodge as bright as ever. 
Only to herself she murmured,
All alone with Waub-omee-mee,
On the tall and toppling highland,
O’er the wilderness of waters;
Murmured to the murmuring waters,
Murmured to the Nebe-naw-baigs—­
To the spirits of the waters;
On the wild waves poured her sorrow. 
Save the infant on her bosom
With her dark eyes wide with wonder,
None to hear her but the spirits,
And the murmuring pines above her. 
Thus she cast away her burdens,
Cast her burdens on the waters;
Thus unto the good Great Spirit,
Made her lowly lamentation: 
“Wahonowin!—­showiness![13]
Gitchee Manito, bena-nin! 
Nah, Ba-ba, showain nemeshin! 
Wahonowin!—­Wahonowin!”

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka,[9] the mighty,
He that sends the cruel winter,
From the distant Thunder-mountain
On the shore of Gitchee Gumee,
On the rugged northern border,
Sent his solemn, final warning,
Sent the white wolves of the Nor’land.[14]
Like the dust of stars in ether—­
In the Pathway of the Spirits,[15]
Like the sparkling dust of diamonds,
Fell the frost upon the forest,
On the mountains and the meadows,
On the wilderness of woodland,
On the wilderness of waters. 
All the lingering fowls departed—­
All that seek the South in winter,
All but Shingebis, the diver;[16]
He defies the Winter-maker,
Sits and laughs at Winter-maker.

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty,
From his wigwam called Kewaydin—­
From his home among the icebergs,
From the sea of frozen waters,
Called the swift and hungry North-wind. 
Then he spread his mighty pinions
Over all the land and shook them. 
Like the white down of Waubese[17]
Fell the feathery snow and covered
All the marshes and the meadows,
All the hill-tops and the highlands. 
Then old Peboean[18]—­the winter—­
Laughed along the stormy waters,
Danced upon the windy headlands,
On the storm his white hair streaming,
And his steaming breath, ascending,
On the pine-tops and the cedars
Fell in frosty mists of silver,
Sprinkling spruce and fir with silver,
Sprinkling all the woods with silver.

By the lodge-fire all the winter
Sat the Sea-Gull and the Red Fox,
Sat and kindly spoke and chatted,
Till the twain seemed friends together. 
Friends they seemed in word and action,
But within the breast of either
Smoldered still the baneful embers—­
Fires of jealousy and hatred—­
Like a camp-fire in the forest
Left by hunters and deserted;
Only seems a bed of ashes,
But the East wind, Wabun-noodin,