Klooskap's children, the last and least,
Bidden to dance at his farewell feast,
Under the great moon's wizard light,
Over the mountain's drifted white,
The Winag'mesuk, the wood-folk small,
Came to the feasting the last of all!
Magic snowshoes they wore that night,
Woven of frostwork and sunset light,
Round and trim like the Master's own,--
Their lances of reed, with a point of bone,
Their oval shields of the woven grass,
Their leader the mighty Kaktugwaas.
The Winag'mesuk, the forest folk,
They fled from the words that the white man spoke.
They were so tired, they were so small,
They hardly could find their way back at all,
Yet bravely they rallied with shield and lance
To dance for Klooskap their Snowshoe Dance!
Light and swift as the whirling snow
They leaped and fluttered aloft, alow.
Silent as owls in the white moonlight
They pounced and grappled in mimic fight.
When they chanted to Klooskap their last farewell
He laid on the forest a fairy spell.
From Little Thunder, from Kaktugwaas,
He took the buckler of woven grass,
The lance of reed with a point of bone,
The rounded footgear like his own,
And bade them grow there under the pines
While the snowdrifts melt and the sunlight shines!
The sagamore pines are dark and tall
That guard the Norumbega wall.
When the clear brooks dance to the flute of spring,
And veery and catbird of Klooskap sing,
The Winag'mesuk for one short hour
Come back for their token of Klooskap's power--
Moccasin Flower!