"O Mannaboosho," cried he through the awful night,
"Here behold me, thy brave warrior. I will conquer in thy might."
Then the lodge door softly opened and in stepped a beauteous form
Clad in ferns and sweet spring grasses. When she breathed, the air
grew warm.
Large her eyes were, glowing brightly, as at night, the lustrous fawn's.
Red her cheeks were like wild roses or bright carmine-tinted dawns.
Long her hair and black as raven's, trailing o'er the frozen ground,
And her hands with pussy-willows, like close-fitting gloves were bound.
Fair wild-flowers crowned her tresses and her dainty little feet
Were encased in two white lilies from the great lakes pure and sweet.

Said the old man, "Ah, my daughter, I am glad to see you here.
Though my lodge is cold and cheerless, it will shield you, never fear;
But pray tell me, fearless maiden, how these icy blasts you dare
To confront in such strange clothing? Will you not the secret share?
I am old Kabibonokka, and my breath in ice congeals.
When I shake my locks, the snow falls. All the earth my power feels.
Hastily the birds fly southward and the squirrels safely hide."
"Ah how strange!" replied the maiden. "I spread beauty far and wide.
When I shake my raven tresses, soft, warm rain falls from the sky,
All the birds come back a-building in the leafy tree-tops high."
Thus they talked, but soon the teepee grew like summer, strangely warm,
And the old man's head dropped listless o'er a soundly-sleeping form.
High the sun rode in the heavens, and a bluebird, pert and trim,
Called out, "Say-ee, I am thirsty;" and the rivers flowed for him.
As the old man slept, the maiden passed her hand above his head,
And he smaller grew and smaller, till, all mortal substance sped,
But a mass of green leaves growing there remained upon the earth;
And the fairy maiden stooping, with an air of quiet mirth,
Took pink-tinted flowers and hid them all about beneath the leaves;
And her sweet, fresh breath upon them, like a spell she softly breathes
As she sings with clear, wild warblings, "of my graces, I give all;
And who shall desire to pluck thee, on his bended knees shall fall."

Then as onward moved the maiden, through the woods and o'er the plains,
All the jocund birds sang to her, o'er her fell the spring-time rains,
And the arbutus in beauty, 'neath her fairy footsteps sprung.
Nowhere else in vale or woodland were the precious seedlets flung.
Still Northern Minnesota, near the great unsa