On the lodge-poles sang the robin—­
And the brooks began to murmur. 
On the South-wind floated fragrance
Of the early buds and blossoms. 
From old Peboean’s eyes the tear-drops
Down his pale face ran in streamlets;
Less and less he grew in stature
Till he melted down to nothing;
And behold, from out the ashes,
From the ashes of his lodge-fire,
Sprang the Miscodeed[23] and, blushing,
Welcomed Segun to the North-land.

So from Sunny Isles returning,
From the Summer-Land of spirits,
On the poles of Panther’s wigwam
Sang Opee-chee—­sang the robin. 
In the maples cooed the pigeons—­
Cooed and wooed like silly lovers. 
“Hah!—­hah!” laughed the crow derisive,
In the pine-top, at their folly—­
Laughed and jeered the silly lovers. 
Blind with love were they, and saw not;
Deaf to all but love, and heard not;
So they cooed and wooed unheeding,
Till the gray hawk pounced upon them,
And the old crow shook with laughter.

[Illustration:  SEGUN AND PEBOAN]

On the tall cliff by the sea-shore
Red Fox made a swing.  She fastened
Thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree,
To the strong arm of the pine-tree. 
Like a hawk, above the waters,
There she swung herself and fluttered,
Laughing at the thought of danger,
Swung and fluttered o’er the waters. 
Then she bantered Sea-Gull, saying,
“See!—­I swing above the billows! 
Dare you swing above the billows—­
Swing like me above the billows?”

To herself said Sea-Gull—­“Surely
I will dare whatever danger
Dares the Red Fox—­dares my rival;
She shall never call me coward.” 
So she swung above the waters—­
Dizzy height above the waters,
Pushed and aided by her rival,
To and fro with reckless daring,
Till the strong tree rocked and trembled,
Rocked and trembled with its burden. 
As above the yawning billows
Flew the Sea-Gull like a whirlwind,
Red Fox, swifter than red lightning,
Cut the thongs, and headlong downward,
Like an osprey from the ether,
Like a wild-goose pierced with arrows,
Fluttering fell the frantic woman,
Fluttering fell into the waters—­
Plunged and sunk beneath the waters! 
Hark!—­the wailing of the West-wind! 
Hark!—­the wailing of the waters,
And the beating of the billows! 
But no more the voice of Sea-Gull.

[Illustration:  FLUTTERING FELL THE FRANTIC WOMAN]

In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
Hushed the wail of Waub-omee-mee,
Weeping for her absent mother. 
With the twinkling stars the hunter
From the forest came and Raven. 
“Sea-Gull wanders late,” said Red Fox,
“Late she wanders by the sea-shore,
And some evil may befall her.” 
In the misty morning twilight
Forth went Panther and the Raven,
Searched the forest and the marshes,
Searched for leagues along the lake-shore,
Searched the islands and the highlands;