Of the pleasant Summer morning. All the birds were singing gayly, 185 All the streamlets flowing swiftly, And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis Sang with pleasure as the birds sing, Beat with triumph like the streamlets, As he wandered through the village, 190 In the early gray of morning, With his fan of turkey-feathers, With his plumes and tufts of swan's down, Till he reached the farthest wigwam, Reached the lodge of Hiawatha. 195 Silent was it and deserted; No one met him at the doorway, No one came to bid him welcome; But the birds were singing round it, In and out and round the doorway, 200 Hopping, singing, fluttering, feeding, And aloft upon the ridge-pole Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens, Sat with fiery eyes, and, screaming, Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis. 205 "All are gone! the lodge is empty!" Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis, In his heart resolving mischief;-- "Gone is wary Hiawatha, Gone the silly Laughing Water, 210 Gone Nokomis, the old woman, And the lodge is left unguarded!" By the neck he seized the raven, Whirled it round him like a rattle, Like a medicine-pouch he shook it, 215 Strangled Kahgahgee, the raven, From the ridge-pole of the wigwam Left its lifeless body hanging, As an insult to its master, As a taunt to Hiawatha. 220 With a stealthy step he entered, Round the lodge in wild disorder Threw the household things about him, Piled together in confusion Bowls of wood and earthen kettles, 225 Robes of buffalo and beaver, Skins of otter, lynx, and ermine, As an insult to Nokomis, As a taunt to Minnehaha. Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis, 230 Whistling, singing through the forest, Whistling gayly to the squirrels, Who from hollow boughs above him Dropped their acorn-shells upon him, Singing gayly to the wood-birds, 235 Who from out the leafy darkness Answered with a song as merry. Then he climbed the rocky headlands Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee, Perched himself upon their summit, 240 Waiting full of mirth and mischief The return of Hiawatha. Stretched upon his back he lay there; Far below him plashed the waters, Plashed and washed the dreamy waters; 245 Far above him swam the heavens, Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens; Round him hovered, fluttered, rustled, Hiawatha's mountain chickens, Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him, 250 Almost brushed him with their pinions. And he killed them as he lay there, Slaughtered them by tens and twenties, Threw their bodies down the headland,