By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
When I remember them, those friends of mine,
Who are no longer here, the noble three,
Who half my life were more than friends to me,
I heard a brooklet gushing
From its rocky fountain near,
Down into the valley rushing,
So fresh and wondrous clear.
Have you read in the Talmud of old,
In the Legends the Rabbins have told
Of the limitless realms of the air,--
Spring is coming, birds are twittering, forests leaf, and smiles the sun,
FAR in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits.
Three miles extended around the fields of the homestead, on three sides
The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.
Will then, Duperrier, thy sorrow be eternal?
And shall the sad discourse
Whispered within thy heart, by tenderness paternal,
Garlands upon his grave
And flowers upon his hearse,
And to the tender heart and brave
The tribute of this verse.