  The Indian name for the Falls of St. Anthony signifies "Laughing Water," and here tradition says that a young woman of the Dahcotah tribe, the father of her children having taken another wife, unmoored her canoe above the fall, and placing herself and children in it, sang her death-song as she went over the foaming declivity. The sun went down the west As a warrior to his grave, And touched with crimson hue The "Laughing Water's" wave; And where the current swept A quick, convulsive flood, Serene upon the brink An Indian mother stood. She watched the torrent blue And then with skilful hand Unmoored the birch canoe, Seized the light oar, and placed Her infants by her side, And steered the fragile bark On through the rushing tide. Then fitfully and wild In thrilling notes of woe Swept down the rapid stream The death-song sad and low; And gathered on the marge, From many a forest glen, With frantic gestures rude, The red Dahcotah men. But onward sped the bark Until it reached the height, Where mounts the angry spray And whirling eddies swept Into the gulf below The smiles of infancy And youth's maturer glow; The priestess of the rock And white-robed surges bore The wronged and broken heart To the far off Spirit Shore. And often when the night Has drawn her shadowy veil, And solemn stars look forth Serenely pure and pale, A spectre bark and form May still be seen to glide, In wondrous silence down The Laughing Water's tide. And mingling with the breath Of low winds sweeping free, And moaning forest tree, Amid the lulling chime Of waters falling there, The death-song floats again Upon the laden air. |
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