"This is the forest primeval.
The murmuring pines and the hemlocks," -
The beeches, the red oaks, the maples,
The carpet of moss on its bosom;
The canyon - not rocky nor bare - but with underbrush, vines and tall pine trees. -
The river - Grand River - so far in the
depths of the canyon, 'tis hidden
From timorous tender-foot.
Only the hardy may see it and drink
Of its crystal-clear waters - as pure,
undefiled as the forest itself.
Here's a mound - just a small one - but yonder
- within the clear sound of the waterfall.
Safe in the depths of the forest, is the tomb
of the Indian chieftain -
The mighty - let's say - Kalapootchie, with
Indian signs pointing toward it -
An arrow sign cut in the beech-bark, and
pointing to Chief's mausoleum. -
And there, in the forest primeval, with
whispering pines and the river's
Soft laughter, to soothe his brave spirit,
lies, under a blanket of needles,
(Pine needles) the once mighty warrior -
let's say - Kalapootchie.
Return to Poem Index