Dark pines and stately firs of lordly height
Enclosed this hidden glade so strangely bright;
While sounds of gently murmuring waters heard
Mingled their tones with those of sweet-voiced bird:
The plaintive whip-poor-will, the turtle dove,—
A song of mingled joy and pain and love.
This was the "Garden of the Gods," where meet,—
When slow-revolving cycles are complete,—
The Guardian Spirits of this Western plain:
To give to him by whose command they reign,
Account if they their trust have well fulfilled,
And governed all things as their Master willed.
WAKONDA, THE GREAT SPIRIT.
Raised on a granite throne sat one who wore
The plume of power; his hand a sceptre bore
Dim outlined 'gainst the sky. No mortal proud
Was he; but like some grand majestic cloud,
Through which the noonday splendor shines, his form
The likeness bore of mingled sun and storm.
This was Wakonda, the "Supreme Unknown,"
The great "Above," the Spirit whom alone
The Western nations worship as the source
Unseen of all existent spirit force.
To him the lesser Guardians of the West
Their homage paid, and thus their speech addressed:
HEYOKAH, THE GUARDIAN SPIRIT OF THE LAKOTAHS.
"Wakonda, mighty one, to thee I bow.
Upon my mountains high, the pole star near,
I dwell alone and rule the seasons there.
"Far South, from Britain's country on the North,
And Westward to the Rocky Mountains' top,
