I come, Mother Earth, when the air is chill, The snow blanket still covers you, Even as the down protects my head today; But the fertile soil is kind, And there is an ever-running little brook. An old man of the Dakotah nation finds me; He sits beside me in your lap, Mother Earth, He fills his pipe with sweet tobacco, He lights it with the mystery of fire, He breathes into it the breath of life; Gently he smokes so that thin rings Ascend languidly into the crystal air. He turns his pipe toward the pulsing earth, He turns it toward the azure sky, He turns it toward himself. Unseen powers will guide him even as I am sent To guide the flowers which are to come; Thus am I rewarded for faith, for courage, for love, Thus are the gifts of the gods united in me -- A flower of the early flowering season. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO NANCY by ROBERT BURNS SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 3 by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS A DEATH SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON THE DEATH OF DR. SWIFT by JONATHAN SWIFT THE TWO ANGELS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE QUEEN'S RIDE; AN INVITATION by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |