All alone, soft songs.
Maiden's songs of the restless hour,
When the full heart sings, it knows not why:
My son shall build himself a lodge,
And thy daughter shall light his fires.

Then said his friend,
'Tis well;
Nor hast thou a forked tongue:
My son is pledged to thee,
And to thy little daughter.
When he has become a warrior-man,
And painted his face with the ochre of wrath,
Red on the cheek,
Red on the brow,
And wears but a scalp-lock,
Decked with the plumes of the warrior-bird,
And has stolen my bow for the field of strife,
And run away with my spear,
And I find my sheaf of arrows gone,
And hear his shout as he follows the step
Of his chief to the Pawnee lodge,
And thy dove
Sings in the grove in the hour of eve,
All alone, soft songs,
Maiden songs, songs of the unquiet hour,
Songs that gush out of the swelling soul,
As the river breaks over its banks:
My son shall build himself a cabin,
And thy daughter shall light his fires.

When these two Ricara babes were grown,
To know the meaning of words,
And to read the language of eyes,
And to guess by the throbs of the heart,
It was said to them,
To the girl, he will build thee a lodge,
And bring thee a good fat deer of the glade;
To the boy, she will light thy fires, and be
The partner of thy lot.
And knowing this they loved:
No more were they seen apart,
They went together to pluck the grape,
To look for the berry which grew on the moor,
To fright the birds from the maize;
They hunted together the lonely copse,
To search for the bittern's eggs,
And they wandered together to pluck from the waste
The first blue flower of the budding moon;
And, when the village children were come,
Where the rope of grass,
Or the twisted thong of bison-hide,
Hung from the bough,
To swing in childish sport,
These two did always swing each other,
And if by chance they found themselves apart,
Then tears bedew'd their little cheeks,
And the gobs of grief came thick and fast,
Till they found each other's arms again,
And so they grew:--
My brother hears.

The maiden grew up beautiful,
Tall as the chin of a lofty man,
Bright as the star that shines,
To guide the Indian hunter through
The pathless wilds to his home.