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Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,
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With his flattering words he wooed her,
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With his sighing and his singing,
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Gentlest whispers in the branches,
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Softest music, sweetest odors,
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Till he drew her to his bosom,
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Folded in his robes of crimson,
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Till into a star he changed her,
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Trembling still upon his bosom;
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And forever in the heavens
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They are seen together walking,
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But the fierce Kabibonokka
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Had his dwelling among icebergs,
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In the everlasting snow-drifts,
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In the kingdom of Wabasso,
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In the land of the White Rabbit.
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He it was whose hand in Autumn
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Painted all the trees with scarlet,
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Stained the leaves with red and yellow;
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He it was who sent the snow-flake,
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Sifting, hissing through the forest,
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Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,
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Drove the loon and sea-gull southward,
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Drove the cormorant and curlew
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To their nests of sedge and sea-tang
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In the realms of Shawondasee.
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Once the fierce Kabibonokka
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Issued from his lodge of snow-drifts
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From his home among the icebergs,
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And his hair, with snow besprinkled,
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Streamed behind him like a river,
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Like a black and wintry river,
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As he howled and hurried southward,
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Over frozen lakes and moorlands.
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There among the reeds and rushes
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Found he Shingebis, the diver,
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Trailing strings of fish behind him,
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O'er the frozen fens and moorlands,
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Lingering still among the moorlands,
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Though his tribe had long departed
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To the land of Shawondasee.
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Cried the fierce Kabibonokka,
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"Who is this that dares to brave me?
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Dares to stay in my dominions,
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When the Wawa has departed,
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When the wild-goose has gone southward,
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And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
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Long ago departed southward?
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I will go into his wigwam,
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I will put his smouldering fire out!"
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And at night Kabibonokka,
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To the lodge came wild and wailing,
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Heaped the snow in drifts about it,
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Shouted down into the smoke-flue,
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Shook the lodge-poles in his fury,
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Flapped the curtain of the door-way.
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Shingebis, the diver, feared not,
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Shingebis, the diver, cared not;
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Four great logs had he for firewood,
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One for each moon of the winter,
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And for food the fishes served him.
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By his blazing fire he sat there,
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Warm and merry, eating, laughing,
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You are but my fellow-mortal!"
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Then Kabibonokka entered,
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And though Shingebis, the diver,
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Felt his presence by the coldness,
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Felt his icy breath upon him,
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Still he did not cease his singing,
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Still he did not leave his laughing,
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Only turned the log a little,
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Only made the fire burn brighter,
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Made the sparks fly up the smoke-flue.
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From Kabibonokka's forehead,
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From his snow-besprinkled tresses,
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Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy,
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Making dints upon the ashes,
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As along the eaves of lodges,
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As from drooping boughs of hemlock,
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Drips the melting snow in spring-time,
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Making hollows in the snow-drifts.
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Till at last he rose defeated,
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Could not bear the heat and laughter,
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Could not bear the merry singing,
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But rushed headlong through the door-way,
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Stamped upon the crusted snow-drifts,
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Stamped upon the lakes and rivers,
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Made the snow upon them harder,
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Made the ice upon them thicker,
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Challenged Shingebis, the diver,
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To come forth and wrestle with him,
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To come forth and wrestle naked
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On the frozen fens and moorlands.
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Forth went Shingebis, the diver,
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Wrestled all night with the North-Wind,
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Wrestled naked on the moorlands
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With the fierce Kabibonokka,
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Till his panting breath grew fainter,
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Till his frozen grasp grew feebler,
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Till he reeled and staggered backward,
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