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Rh Like the burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she,

Like a dragon-fly, he hovered

O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind.

To his ear there came a murmur

As of waves upon a sea-shore,

As of far-off tumbling waters,

As of winds among the pine-trees;

And he felt upon his forehead

Blows of little airy war-clubs,

Wielded by the slumbrous legions

Of the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin,

As of some one breathing on him.

At the first blow of their war-clubs,

Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind;

At the second blow they smote him,

Motionless his paddle rested;

At the third, before his vision

Reeled the landscape into darkness,

Very sound asleep was Kwasind.

So he floated down the river,