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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386604" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The legend of qu'appelle valley</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am the one who loved her as my life, <br> Had watched her grow to sweet young womanhood; <br>Won the dear privilege to call her wife, <br> And found the world, because of her, was good. <br>I am the one who heard the spirit voice, <br> Of which the paleface settlers love to tell; <br>From whose strange story they have made their choice <br> Of naming this fair valley the &quot;Qu'Appelle.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">She had said fondly in my eager ear-- <br> &quot;When Indian summer smiles with dusky lip, <br>Come to the lakes, I will be first to hear <br> The welcome music of thy paddle dip. <br>I will be first to lay in thine my hand, <br> To whisper words of greeting on the shore; <br>And when thou would'st return to thine own land, <br> I'll go with thee, thy wife for evermore.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not yet a leaf had fallen, not a tone <br> Of frost upon the plain ere I set forth, <br>Impatient to possess her as my own-- <br> This queen of all the women of the North. <br>I rested not at even or at dawn, <br> But journeyed all the dark and daylight through-- <br>Until I reached the Lakes, and, hurrying on, <br> I launched upon their bosom my canoe. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of sleep or hunger then I took no heed, <br> But hastened o'er their leagues of waterways; <br>But my hot heart outstripped my paddle's speed <br> And waited not for distance or for days, <br>But flew before me swifter than the blade <br> Of magic paddle ever cleaved the Lake, <br>Eager to lay its love before the maid, <br> And watch the lovelight in her eyes awake. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the long days went slowly drifting past; <br> It seemed that half my life must intervene <br>Before the morrow, when I said at last-- <br> &quot;One more day's journey and I win my queen!&quot; <br>I rested then, and, drifting, dreamed the more <br> Of all the happiness I was to claim,-- <br>When suddenly from out the shadowed shore, <br> I heard a voice speak tenderly my name. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Who calls?&quot; I answered; no reply; and long <br> I stilled my paddle blade and listened. Then <br>Above the night wind's melancholy song <br> I heard distinctly that strange voice again-- <br>A woman's voice, that through the twilight came <br> Like to a soul unborn--a song unsung. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I leaned and listened--yes, she spoke my name, <br> And then I answered in the quaint French tongue, <br>&quot;Qu'Appelle? Qu'Appelle?&quot; No answer, and the night <br> Seemed stiller for the sound, till round me fell <br>The far-off echoes from the far-off height-- <br> &quot;Qu'Appelle?&quot; my voice came back, &quot;Qu'Appelle? Qu'Appelle?&quot; <br>This--and no more; I called aloud until <br> I shuddered as the gloom of night increased, <br>And, like a pallid spectre wan and chill, <br> The moon arose in silence in the east. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dare not linger on the moment when <br> My boat I beached beside her tepee door; <br>I heard the wail of women and of men,-- <br> I saw the death-fires lighted on the shore. <br>No language tells the torture or the pain, <br> The bitterness that flooded all my life,-- <br>When I was led to look on her again, <br> That queen of women pledged to be my wife. <br>To look upon the beauty of her face, <br> The still closed eyes, the lips that knew no breath; <br>To look, to learn,--to realize my place <br> Had been usurped by my one rival--Death. <br>A storm of wrecking sorrow beat and broke <br> About my heart, and life shut out its light <br>Till through my anguish some one gently spoke, <br> And said, &quot;Twice did she call for thee last night.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I started up--and bending o'er my dead, <br> Asked when did her sweet lips in silence close. <br>&quot;She called thy name--then passed away,&quot; they said, <br>&quot;Just on the hour whereat the moon arose.&quot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Among the lonely Lakes I go no more, <br> For she who made their beauty is not there; <br>The paleface rears his tepee on the shore <br> And says the vale is fairest of the fair. <br>Full many years have vanished since, but still <br> The voyageurs beside the campfire tell <br>How, when the moonrise tips the distant hill, <br> They hear strange voices through the silence swell. <br>The paleface loves the haunted lakes they say, <br> And journeys far to watch their beauty spread <br>Before his vision; but to me the day, <br> The night, the hour, the seasons are all dead. <br>I listen heartsick, while the hunters tell <br> Why white men named the valley The Qu'Appelle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Pauline+Johnson">Emily Pauline Johnson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386604" data-title="The legend of qu'appelle valley de Emily Pauline Johnson" data-description="I am the one who loved her as my life, 
 Had watched her grow to sweet young womanhood; 
Won the dear privilege to call her wife, 
 And found the world, because of her, was good. 
I am the one who heard the spirit voice, 
 Of which the paleface se..."></div>
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