Page:Many Many Moons.djvu/42

Who walked to his death in his birch canoe
Over the falls of the Cut-Foot Waters.
Blow his spirit into my lodge,
That his aged father who sits without
May hear his voice again.
Hear me! Hear me, má-ni-dó!
Make his ghost to talk from my lodge
That the people who watch my juggling
May know his voice again. . . .
·····
Conver-
sationally.
  How! How!
  Hear, my people?
  My medicine-skin is strong with power!
·····
To be chanted.
Hear ye, spirits three!
Go ye back to thy weég-a-wams
In the corners of the earth!
Into the East, into the West, into the North!
Leash again the wolves of the wind. . . .
To thee, O Má-ni-dó of the East,
This handful of burning balsam
Which I fling on the dying wind;
To thee, O Má-ni-dó of the West,
This handful of yellow medicine,
Powder of precious clays;
To thee, O Má-ni-dó of the North,
This red-willow twig whereon I have rubbed
My potent medicine ratskin.
Go ye back, ye má-ni-dó,
To the corners of the earth!
Hah-eeee-yóoooooooooooo!
·····