AS time past onwards, day by day
Manita by the grave would stay;
And often she would steal by night
To that lone spot to glad her sight ...
And many came to hear the song
She sung at times the whole day long.
She fancied, too, that flowers and birds
Were listening to its tender words,
And that at night the dreaming moon
Sent echoes to her simple tune—
It was a loving lay to cheer
While Ogemah lay sleeping near:
"I have a little friend
Up in the tall pine tree.
In the sunny air he sings,
Sits and sings with folded wings,
Sings low and soft down by the lake,
Lest he should Ogemah awake.
I have a pretty friend,
The redbreast in the tree.
All day for me he sings,
Word from Ogemah he brings,
And often warbles by the lake
To see if he is yet awake."
