Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

Page 9 text:

TLE WIIRLPOOL Here he told her all his conquests Over bear or other foeman ; First he told her of his wigwam, Then his new Cheemaun for sailing. They were standing thus at twilight, Wh en they heard far in the distance Mingled noises as from feasting At this hour among the Indians. “Tush!” she said. “It is K’chiskotek, The great council-fire, W’chiskotek There will soon be war between us, Twixtimy tribe and the Algonquins.” Late that evening he departed, Went to fight among his people. But he never would forget her, Neer forget his lovely sweetheart, And he cautioned her at leaving, “Come here every eve at twilight, Come and watch for me at twilight, Ior T may be waiting for you, Por my lovely starlight maiden.” True to him, the falling shadows Found her on the cliffs at twilight. As the pale night-sun was rising, Lighting up the limpid waters Of the lovely Lake Sebago, Thus she waited for her lover, While the whip-poor-will, Wawonaissa, Broke the lonesomeness of evening, Thinking, dreaming of the future, There a wondrous thought came to her. Quickly went she to her wigwai, Took her Owlamon, her red paint, Pigment green, and yellow ochre. Then she in the glow of sunset On the terraces of granite Painted many, many pictures. First of all was Mishe-Mokwa, Greatest bear of all the woodlands, Telling of her lover's combat With the great hear of the forests. Then his great Cheemaun for sailing Grew beneath her hands’ strange cunning, a |

Page 8 text:

THE WUOIRLPOOL The Images In the Jand of Wabanaki On the shores of Lake Sebago Dwelt a lovely Indian Maiden, Tall and straight as any pine tree, Lived here with her chieftain father In the tallest, whitest wigwai. Here she roamed about the forest, Making friends with all the wood-folk ; And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Perched upon the mossy clil-side Or upon the swaying branches With his saucy tail up-pluming, Waited, waited for her coming, Por the beautiful Waneta. Far away across the waters Of the lovely Lake Sehago Tn another land and country Lived a young Algonquin chieftain. Many times, ignoring danger, Came he to the Wabanaki, Saw the beautiful Waneta, Saw her haughty chieftain father. But he could not claim this maiden, Loveliest of all the women, For, alas! there was a hatred, Blood-feud, old and deep and bitter, 'Twixt his tribe and the Algonquins. Now he made his visits secret, Kept his tryst far from the camplire Near the shores of Lake Sebago.

Page 10 text:

TILE WITRLPOOL Wampum strings, her lover's totem. Now she wished to paint her pictures Where the rock was smoothest, sheerest, Rising out of Lake Sebago Straight and steep as falls a raindrop. Growing on the rocky terrace, Clinging to its smooth gray edges, Drooped a mass of strong wild grapevines. Touching the vine, she was thinking Wondering if the vine would hold her, Trustingly she stepped upon it, Clinging to its strongest branches. Painted she her lover's wigwam, Then beside the lonely dwelling Painted many other pictures, Now at last all was completed, All was ready for her sweetheart. Now she stood upon the terrace, Gazing at her work completed, Then she went back to the village. There the warriors were preparing For the war with the Algonquins, All their war-gear had been mustered, Mustered ready for departing. And Waneta could not stop them Though she pleaded with her father. But the haughty Indian chieftain Would not listen to his daughter. Passed Waneta to the clif-side And sat down upon the ledges. All was still about the forests And the lake was at its calmest. Soon she shumbered in the quiet, Dropped asleep in the pale moonlight. In the land of dreams she wandered Far away across Sebago, In that other land and country. Now she heard the din of battle. Saw the awfulness of fighting. Then she saw her true young lover, All resplendent in his war-gear, Round his neck were strings of wampum: On his head were eagle feathers.