The Song Of Hiawatha

The stillest night falls upon us here in a land of shifting grey
and the waning moon is mourning a long-forgotten day
This all we know, the only road
As we disappear our voices are fading away.

Behind closed doors we are holding onto tales of our youth
They are light for us in times that ignore what once was truth
If this is all we are, our legacy
Many years from now our stories will show them the way.

In the deepest hollow
Where the river runs cold
I hear the ancient tales
From voices far away
Listen to the echoes
Of long-forgotten days.

From the great lakes of the Northland
To the meadow, moor, and fen
From the white fog in the autumn
These stories live again
From the shadows of the forest
And the wind among the trees
Hear this song of Hiawatha
Warrior of centuries!

In the silent valley
The elder sits alone
Haunts of nature, rush and reed
Sweet he sings his song
Of wayward souls and wilderness
And carries me along.

From the rushing of the river
To the rain-shower and the snow
From the alders in the summer
These legends live and grow
Through the palisades of pine-trees
And the melancholy glen
From the lips of Nawadaha
Hiawatha lives again!

Searching blindly in the dark
Where thorns and briars lie
Over stone walls gray with moss
Where only dead winds sigh
Written on these weathered graves
Words of broken heart
Of the here and the hereafter
Death has done us part.

By the thunder in the mountains
O’er the savage ocean’s tide
Through the bleakness of the winter
These words will be your guide
In the light and in the darkness
Ere the eagle spreads his wings
Hear this song of Hiawatha
Warrior and king of kings!