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Dim name, yet grand, that ever winks serene

In the red fagot's light, and like a ghost

Hovers above these raucous tides, this coast,

Wreathing weird webs of arrowy salts and keen!

Under the black blue night's unrollëd screen

The loon is calling to the fiery host,

And yet no answer comes to keep thy boast,—

Far years their mellow thunders roll between.

Divinest of the red man's race and name,

Fulness of Hiawatha's dawning day,

Giver of laws, priest, prophet, all confest!

Thou'lt come again, appeased thy wrath and shame,

Thy speed in all thy limbs, up yonder Bay

In white canoe from out the naked west.