Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur._
He rides on the river with his paddle in his hand,
And his boat is his shelter on the water and the land.
The clam has his shell and the water-turtle too,
But the brave boatman's shell is his birch-bark canoe.
So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur._
Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_,
His couch is as downy as a couch can be,
For he sleeps on the feathers of the green fir-tree.
He dines on the fat of the pemmican-sack,
And his _eau de vie_ is the _eau de lac_.
So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
The brave, jolly boatman,--he never is afraid
When he meets at the portage a red, forest maid,
A Huron, or a Cree, or a blooming Chippeway;
And he marks his trail with the _bois brulés_[AU]
So pull away, boatmen; bend to the oar;
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
Home again! home again! bend to the oar!
Merry is the life of the gay _voyageur_.
In the reeds of the meadow the stag
lifts his branchy head stately and listens,
And the bobolink, perched on the flag,
her ear sidelong bends to the chorus.
From the brow of the Beautiful Isle,[AV]
half hid in the midst of the maples,
The sad-faced Winona, the while,
watched the boat growing less in the distance,
Till away in the bend of the stream,
where it turned and was lost in the lindens,
She saw the last dip and the gleam
of the oars ere they vanished forever.
[AU] "Burnt woods"--half-breeds.
[AV] _Wita Waste_--"Beautiful Island"; the Dakota name for Nicollet
Island.
Still afar on the waters the song,
like bridal bells distantly chiming,
The stout, jolly boatmen prolong,
beating time with the stroke of their paddles;
And Winona's ear, turned to the breeze,
lists the air falling fainter and fainter,
Till it dies like the murmur of bees
when the sun is aslant on the meadows.
Blow, breezes,--blow softly and sing
in the dark, flowing hair of the maiden;
But never again shall you bring
the voice that she loves to Winona.