HAH—eeeeeeeee—oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo! | |
| My little Pigeon-woman, | |
| For you alone, as I float in my little birch canoe in the purple twilight, | |
| I am singing, I am calling | |
| on my little cedar lute tenderly. | 5 |
| For you alone, for you alone I am playing | |
| on my little yellow flute mellowly. | |
| And though the singing of my throat is like the grumping of the frog | |
| at night among the water-lilies, | |
| yet the notes from my cedar Pee'-bo-an' | 10 |
| are like silver bubbles in the moonlight. | |
| Therefore why do you hide away from me like the timid little fawn | |
| that peers tremblingly at me | |
| from yonder bending willows, | |
| My little Pigeon-woman, | 15 |
| My Kah-lee'-lee-oh'-kah-lay'-quay! | |
| |
| Hah—eeeeeeeee—oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo! | |
| From the clouds of purple twilight on yonder shore | |
| the wailing loon is calling, calling, | |
| calling for his woman drearily. | 20 |
| And I am also calling | |
| on my little yellow flute wearily. | |
| In the dewy glade of yonder valley | |
| the whip-poor-will is crying for his mate; | |
| In the sombre lonely shadows of the timber | 25 |
| the melancholy owl is also calling. | |
| But the owl and the whip-poor-will do not hear an answer | |
| to their many, many callings— | |
| Nor do I hear an answer to my melody. | |
| The meadow-lark is fluting his golden song; | 30 |
| and from the lilied meadows | |
| other golden notes come floating back to him | |
| like little golden bells. | |
| And though the meadow-lark does not sing more tenderly | |
| than my little yellow flute, | 35 |
| you do not answer my callings, | |
| My little Pigeon-woman, | |
| My Kah-lee'-lee-oh'-kah-lay'-quay! | |
| |
| Hah—eeeeeeeee—oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo! | |
| And now the purple wings of the night are softly folded down | 40 |
| upon my sleepy little lake, | |
| and the sighing silver balsams. | |
| The cooing wood-dove has slipped her head beneath her downy wings; | |
| and the hermit-thrush will pipe no longer. | |
| The eyes of the many little stars are peering down | 45 |
| upon me from the sky steadily; | |
| And the wan and sickly moon is smiling yellowly at me. | |
| I do not like the many little peering eyes, | |
| I do not like the smiling yellow moon; | |
| I love the sun that dances down the sky | 50 |
| with a swirl of scarlet robes, | |
| and with her head flung back over her shoulder, | |
| a taunting smile on her vermilion face. | |
| |
| And now the flutings of my little Pee'bo-a'n avail me no longer; | |
| For you have flown away from me, you have flown away from me, | 55 |
| like the sun that slipped down behind the willows | |
| trailing her purple veils behind her | |
| on the shimmering waters of my lake | |
| and over the edge of the world. | |
| |
| But tomorrow the sun will come back to me, | 60 |
| the sun will come back tomorrow, | |
| My little Pigeon-woman, | |
| My Kah-lee'-lee-oh'-kah-lay'-quay! | |
| |
