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Yet while it sits low to the horizon,
Eyes, lips, ears and hair,
Glorious limbs, the well-defined hand,
Feet with pretty toes ...
All Nature's children are beautiful,
Its works abound with care and great love.
But she, she was blessed with beauty, exceedingly so,
The sun himself, though he encountered her often,
He would be caught unawares.
She surprised the sun himself,
Whenever she had come into his presence.
She surpassed all items of creation
Not only in feature and proportion,
But in wit and spirit, too.
The Whites brought us, the Chippewa,
The Two Books, their sacred wisdom and stories.
Their priests had translated these works into our language,
The moment he touched them, he cast them to the ground.
We knew no other force to match her power.
We knew hers was the face,
Which could launch a thousand war canoes at once.
So to honor her the topless sentry towers would tumble,
Her face would level the high fences;
It would vanquish the alien command,
A thick, wood fort on the bank of the River,
A sacrilege to all that was natural and good.
The promise went that once she step out from her tent,
Have them in his life, she would remain his favorite.