g,
Calling and listening through the falling dew,
While fast and furious still the cadence grew
Of the gay dance, whose distant music fell,
Smiting the mother like a funeral knell.
High rode the sun in heaven next day before
The stricken mother found along the shore
The object of her unremitting quest.
The cooling wave whereon she lay at rest
Had stilled the tumult of Winona's breast
Along that shapely ruin's plastic grace,
And in the parting of her braided hair,
The hopeless mother's glances searching there
The Thunder-Bird's mysterious mark might trace.

So died Winona, and let all beware,
For vengeance follows fast and will not spare,
Nor maid, nor warrior that dares offend
Who hath the cruel Thunder-Bird for friend.

THE PEACE-PIPE
QUARRY

[Illustration]

Outward swell the rolling prairies like the waves of ocean deep;
Higher rise the crested billows rolling upward as they sweep
From horizon to horizon, and the air grows pure and free,
"On the mountains of the prairie," on the wind-swept emerald sea.

As in olden time the zealots who would build unto their God,
Sacred temples for his worship, chose a "high place," and the sod
Of the consecrated mountain was made holy by the rites
Of footsore and weary pilgrims who had sought the sacred heights,
So instinctively the red-men, roaming o'er the boundless main,
Looked for their Manitou above the low level of the plain;
Sought and found him on the summit of the green wave's swelling crest
Rising upward like a mountain, in the valley of the West.

Not to him they founded temples, gilded fanes and altars fair;
Looking up, they saw already Manitou enthroned there
In the fastness of the mountain, with his sphynx-like, stony face
Watching like a guardian spirit, o'er the dusky lawless race
Who regarded not each other, and their deadly hatred slaked
In the blood of friends and foemen, when their slumbering ire was waked.

"Gitche Manitou, the Mighty," the Great Spirit throned above,
Was a God of truth and wisdom, was a God of peace and love;
And as God upon Mount Sinai, stooping from his heavenly throne,
Gave the law unto his people, deeply graven into _stone_,
"Gitche Manitou, the Mighty," in compassion for the race
Of unlettered, untaught heathen who knew not his god-like face
Save they saw it in the tempest or the lightning's livid glare,
Or in some familiar emblem they could see, or feel, or wear,
Taught them peace and love to kindred, through an em