The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Original Classic Edition. Longfellow Henry

Powerless was the strange enchantment, And the youth, the fearless bowman, Suddenly felt himself descending,

       Held by unseen hands, but sinking Downward through the empty spaces, Downward through the clouds and vapors, Till he rested on an island,

       On an island, green and grassy, Yonder in the Big-Sea-Water. "After him he saw descending

       All the birds with shining feathers, Fluttering, falling, wafted downward, Like the painted leaves of Autumn; And the lodge with poles of silver, With its roof like wings of beetles, Like the shining shards of beetles,

       By the winds of heaven uplifted, Slowly sank upon the island, Bringing back the good Osseo, Bringing Oweenee, the faithful.

       "Then the birds, again transfigured,

       Reassumed the shape of mortals,

       Took their shape, but not their stature; They remained as Little People,

       Like the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies, And on pleasant nights of Summer, When the Evening Star was shining,

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       Hand in hand they danced together On the island's craggy headlands, On the sand-beach low and level.

       "Still their glittering lodge is seen there, On the tranquil Summer evenings,

       And upon the shore the fisher Sometimes hears their happy voices, Sees them dancing in the starlight!" When the story was completed, When the wondrous tale was ended, Looking round upon his listeners, Solemnly Iagoo added:

       "There are great men, I have known such, Whom their people understand not, Whom they even make a jest of,

       Scoff and jeer at in derision. From the story of Osseo

       Let us learn the fate of jesters!" All the wedding guests delighted Listened to the marvellous story, Listened laughing and applauding, And they whispered to each other: "Does he mean himself, I wonder? And are we the aunts and uncles?" Then again sang Chibiabos,

       Sang a song of love and longing, In those accents sweet and tender, In those tones of pensive sadness, Sang a maiden's lamentation