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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409698" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Death Of Kwasind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Far and wide among the nations<br>Spread the name and fame of Kwasind;<br>No man dared to strive with Kwasind,<br>No man could compete with Kwasind.<br>But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,<br>They the envious Little People,<br>They the fairies and the pygmies,<br>Plotted and conspired against him.<br> &quot;If this hateful Kwasind,&quot; said they,<br>&quot;If this great, outrageous fellow<br>Goes on thus a little longer,<br>Tearing everything he touches,<br>Rending everything to pieces,<br>Filling all the world with wonder,<br>What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies?<br>Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies?<br>He will tread us down like mushrooms,<br>Drive us all into the water,<br>Give our bodies to be eaten<br>By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs,<br>By the Spirits of the water!<br> So the angry Little People<br>All conspired against the Strong Man,<br>All conspired to murder Kwasind,<br>Yes, to rid the world of Kwasind,<br>The audacious, overbearing,<br>Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind!<br> Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind<br>In his crown alone was seated;<br>In his crown too was his weakness;<br>There alone could he be wounded,<br>Nowhere else could weapon pierce him,<br>Nowhere else could weapon harm him.<br> Even there the only weapon<br>That could wound him, that could slay him,<br>Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree,<br>Was the blue cone of the fir-tree.<br>This was Kwasind's fatal secret,<br>Known to no man among mortals;<br>But the cunning Little People,<br>The Puk-Wudjies, knew the secret,<br>Knew the only way to kill him.<br> So they gathered cones together,<br>Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree,<br>Gathered blue cones of the fir-tree,<br>In the woods by Taquamenaw,<br>Brought them to the river's margin,<br>Heaped them in great piles together,<br>Where the red rocks from the margin<br>Jutting overhang the river.<br>There they lay in wait for Kwasind,<br>The malicious Little People.<br> `T was an afternoon in Summer;<br>Very hot and still the air was,<br>Very smooth the gliding river,<br>Motionless the sleeping shadows:<br>Insects glistened in the sunshine,<br>Insects skated on the water,<br>Filled the drowsy air with buzzing,<br>With a far resounding war-cry.<br> Down the river came the Strong Man,<br>In his birch canoe came Kwasind,<br>Floating slowly down the current<br>Of the sluggish Taquamenaw,<br>Very languid with the weather,<br>Very sleepy with the silence.<br> From the overhanging branches,<br>From the tassels of the birch-trees,<br>Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended;<br>By his airy hosts surrounded,<br>His invisible attendants,<br>Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin;<br>Like a burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she,<br>Like a dragon-fly, he hovered<br>O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind.<br> To his ear there came a murmur<br>As of waves upon a sea-shore,<br>As of far-off tumbling waters,<br>As of winds among the pine-trees;<br>And he felt upon his forehead<br>Blows of little airy war-clubs,<br>Wielded by the slumbrous legions<br>Of the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin,<br>As of some one breathing on him.<br> At the first blow of their war-clubs,<br>Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind;<br>At the second blow they smote him,<br>Motionless his paddle rested;<br>At the third, before his vision<br>Reeled the landscape Into darkness,<br>Very sound asleep was Kwasind.<br> So he floated down the river,<br>Like a blind man seated upright,<br>Floated down the Taquamenaw,<br>Underneath the trembling birch-trees,<br>Underneath the wooded headlands,<br>Underneath the war encampment<br>Of the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies.<br> There they stood, all armed and waiting,<br>Hurled the pine-cones down upon him,<br>Struck him on his brawny shoulders,<br>On his crown defenceless struck him.<br>&quot;Death to Kwasind!&quot; was the sudden<br>War-cry of the Little People.<br> And he sideways swayed and tumbled,<br>Sideways fell into the river,<br>Plunged beneath the sluggish water<br>Headlong, as an otter plunges;<br>And the birch canoe, abandoned,<br>Drifted empty down the river,<br>Bottom upward swerved and drifted:<br>Nothing more was seen of Kwasind.<br> But the memory of the Strong Man<br>Lingered long among the people,<br>And whenever through the forest<br>Raged and roared the wintry tempest,<br>And the branches, tossed and troubled,<br>Creaked and groaned and split asunder,<br>&quot;Kwasind!&quot; cried they; &quot;that is Kwasind!<br>He is gathering in his fire-wood!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</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=409698" data-title="The Death Of Kwasind de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="Far and wide among the nations
Spread the name and fame of Kwasind;
No man dared to strive with Kwasind,
No man could compete with Kwasind.
But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,
They the envious Little People,
They the fairies and the pygmies,
Plotted ..."></div>
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