Explore "The Song of Hiawatha" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In his lodge beside a river, / Close beside a frozen river, / Sat an old man, sad and lonely. / White his hair was as a snow-drift; / Dull and low his fire was burning, / And the old man shook and trembled, / Folded in his Waubewyon, / In his tattered white-skin-wrapper, / Hearing nothing but the tempest / As it roared along the forest, / Seeing nothing but the snow-storm, / As it whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals were white with ashes, / And the fire was slowly dying, / As a young man, walking lightly, / At the open doorway entered. / Red with blood of youth his cheeks were, / Soft his eyes, as stars in Spring-time, / Bound his forehead was with grasses; / Bound and plumed with scented grasses, / On his lips a smile of beauty, / Filling all the lodge with sunshine, / In his hand a bunch of blossoms / Filling all the lodge with sweetness.