The Legend Of The Falls[CG]

Read at the Celebration of the Old Settlers of Hennepin County, at the Academy of Music, Minneapolis, July 4, 1879.


On the Spirit-Island ^[CH] sitting under midnight's misty moon,
Lo I see the spirits flitting o'er the waters one by one!
Slumber wraps the silent city, and the droning mills are dumb;
One lone whippowil's shrill ditty calls her mate that ne'er will    come.
Sadly moans the mighty river, foaming down the fettered falls,
Where of old he thundered ever o'er abrupt and lofty walls.
Great Unktéhee god of waters lifts no more his mighty head;
Fled he with the timid otters? lies he in the cavern dead?
Hark! the waters hush their sighing and the whippowil her call,
Through the moon-lit mists are flying dusky shadows silent all.
Lo from out the waters foaming from the cavern deep and dread
Through the glamour and the gloaming comes a spirit of the dead.
Sad she seems; her tresses raven on her tawny shoulders rest;
Sorrow on her brow is graven, in her arms a babe is pressed.
Hark! she chants the solemn story sings the legend sad and old,
And the river wrapt in glory listens while the tale is told.
Would you hear the legend olden hearken while I tell the tale
Shorn, alas, of many a golden, weird Dakota chant and wail.

Hanford Lennox Gordon

No biography available

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Lines On The Death Of Captain Hiram A. Coats, My Old Schoolmate And Friend.

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

To Mollie

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Charity

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

Christmas Eve

Hanford Lennox Gordon, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Minnetonka[BY]

I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June,
I hear the dip of gleaming oar, I list the singers' merry tune.
Beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones,
The squirrel chatters from his seat; the bag-pipe beetle hums and drones.
The pink and gold in blooming wold, the green hills mirrored in the lake!
The deep, blue waters, zephyr-rolled, along the murmuring pebbles break.
The maples screen the ferns, and lean the leafy lindens o'er the deep;
The sapphire, set in emerald green, lies like an Orient gem asleep.
The crimson west glows like the breast of Rhuddin^[CA] when he pipes in May,
As downward droops the sun to rest, and shadows gather on the bay.
In amber sky the swallows fly and sail and circle o'er the deep;
The light-w...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Death Of Winona.

Down the broad Ha-Ha Wák-pa^[BS]
the band took their way to the Games at Keóza^[8]
While the swift-footed hunters by land
ran the shores for the elk and the bison.
Like magás^[BT] ride the birchen canoes
on the breast of the dark, winding river,
By the willow-fringed island they cruise,
by the grassy hills green to their summits;
By the lofty bluffs hooded with oaks
that darken the deep with their shadows;
And bright in the sun gleam the strokes
of the oars in the hands of the women.
With the band went Winona.
The oar plied the maid with the skill of a hunter.
They tarried a time on the shore of Remníca
the Lake of the Mountains.^[BU]
There the fleet hunters followed the deer,
and the tho...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

In Camp.

With sable wings wide o'er the land
night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
And hard by the dark river's strand,
in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
Two camp fires are lighted and beam
on the trunks and the arms of the pine trees.
In the fitful light darkle and gleam
the swarthy-hued faces around them.
And one is the camp of DuLuth,
and the other the camp of Tamdóka.
But few are the jests and uncouth
of the voyageurs over their supper,
While moody and silent the braves
round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
And low is the whisper of leaves
and the sough of the wind in the branches;
And low is the long-winding howl
of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
like a bugle-blast blown in the pine-tops,
And t...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

The Legend

Tall was young Wanâta, stronger than Heyóka's ^[16] giant form,
Laughed at flood and fire and hunger, faced the fiercest winter storm.
When Wakinyan ^[32] flashed and thundered, when Unktéhee raved and roared,
All but brave Wanâta wondered, and the gods with fear implored.
When the war-whoop shrill resounded, calling friends to meet the foe,
From the teepee swift he bounded, armed with polished lance and bow.
In the battle's din and clangor fast his fatal arrows flew,
Flashed his fiery eyes with anger, many a stealthy foe he slew.
Hunter swift was he and cunning, caught the beaver, slew the bear,
Overtook the roebuck running, dragged the panther from his lair.
Loved was he by many a maiden; many a dark eye glanced in vain;
Many a heart w...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Duluth's Departure

To bid the brave White Chief adieu,
on the shady shore gathered the warriors;
His glad boatmen manned the canoe,
and the oars in their hands were impatient.
Spake the Chief of Isántees:
"A feast will await the return of my brother.
In peace rose the sun in the East,
in peace in the West he descended.
May the feet of my brother be swift
till they bring him again to our teepees,
The red pipe he takes as a gift,
may he smoke that red pipe many winters.
At my lodge-fire his pipe shall be lit,
when the White Chief returns to Kathága;
On the robes of my tee shall he sit;
he shall smoke with the chiefs of my people.
The brave love the brave, and his son
sends the Chief as a guide for his brother,
By the way of the Wákpa Wakán<...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Death Of Ta-Te-Psin.
The long winter wanes. On the wings
of the spring come the geese and the mallards;
On the bare oak the red-robin sings,
and the crocus peeps up on the prairies,
And the bobolink pipes, but he brings
of the blue-eyed, brave White Chief no tidings.
With the waning of winter, alas,
waned the life of the aged Ta-té-psin;
Ere the wild pansies peeped from the grass,
to the Land of the Spirits he journeyed;
Like a babe in its slumber he passed,
or the snow from the hill-tops of April;
And the dark-eyed Winona, at last,
stood alone by the graves of her kindred.
When their myriad mouths opened the trees
to the sweet dew of heaven and the raindrops,
And the April showers fell on the leas,
on his mound fell the tears of Winona.
Round her drooping form gathered ...
Hanford Lennox Gordon