SPOTTED-FACE, THE TRIBAL FOOL, PRAYS
O Mystery, take my feast of maple-sugar
Set on this medicine-earth for you to eat—
And let your heart grow good to me with presents.
Set on this medicine-earth for you to eat—
And let your heart grow good to me with presents.
Give me the legs and sinews of the moose,
For trailing otters steadily from sleep
To sleep; the cunning of the timber-wolf,
That I may kill prime fishers, minks, and martens;
And put upon the pan of my trap the paws
Of silver foxes, and let its ragged teeth
Hold to the bone with the never-ending clutch
Of quicksand—ho! many foxes—eleven, twelve!
For trailing otters steadily from sleep
To sleep; the cunning of the timber-wolf,
That I may kill prime fishers, minks, and martens;
And put upon the pan of my trap the paws
Of silver foxes, and let its ragged teeth
Hold to the bone with the never-ending clutch
Of quicksand—ho! many foxes—eleven, twelve!
All this I ask, that I may pack much fur
To the village—pelts to the muzzle of my gun,
Pelts that will put white eyes in the heads of all
The pretty-colored women, bold round eyes
That burn my spotted face with naked asking.
To the village—pelts to the muzzle of my gun,
Pelts that will put white eyes in the heads of all
The pretty-colored women, bold round eyes
That burn my spotted face with naked asking.
