Lonely is our valley, Though the month is May; Come and be my moonlight, I will be thy day! Lift thine eyes, my maiden, Oh, behold me nigh! Now the sun is rising, Now the shadows fly; Lift thine eyes, my maiden, Hear thy lover's cry! THE STORY AND SONG OF THE WREN.[6] [Footnote 6: Both story and song were recited to me by an old priest of the rite, and were interpreted by Mr. James R. Murie.] This little parable occurs in the ritual of a religious ceremony of the Pawnee tribe. The song has no words, except a term for wren, the vocables being intended only to imitate the notes of the bird, nevertheless, one can trace, through the variation and repetition of the musical motive, the movement of the gentle thoughts of the teacher as given in the story which belongs to the song. "A priest went forth in the early dawn. The sky was clear. The grass and wild flowers waved in the breeze that rose as the sun threw its first beams over the earth. Birds of all kinds vied with each other, as they sang their joy on that beautiful morning. The priest stood listening. Suddenly, off at one side, he heard a trill that rose higher and clearer than all the rest. He moved toward the place whence the song came, that he might see what manner of bird it was that could send farther than all the others its happy, laughing notes. As he came near, he beheld a tiny brown bird with open bill, the feathers on its throat rippling with the fervour of its song. It was the wren, the smallest, the least powerful of birds, that seemed to be most glad and to pour out in ringing melody to the rising sun its delight in life. "As the priest looked, he thought: 'Here is a teaching for my people. Every one can be happy, even the most insignificant can have his song of thanks.' "So he made the story of the wren and sang it; and it has been handed down from that day,--a day so long ago no man can remember the time." [Music: SONG OF THE WREN. _Pawnee._ Transcribed from Graphophone and harmonized by EDWIN S. TRACY. Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi, Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi, Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi, Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi, Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi, Ke-chi ra-ku-wa-ku whe ke re re we chi.] THE OMAHA FUNERAL SONG. There was but one funeral song in the Omaha tribe, and this was only sung to honour some man or woman who had been greatly respected by the people.