I sit and beat the wizard's magic drum; And by its mystic sound I call the beasts. From mountain lair and forest nook they throng; E'en mighty storms obey the dreadful sound. I sit and beat the wizard's magic drum; The storm and thunder answer when it calls. Aplasemwesit, mighty whirlwind, stops To hearken to the mystic sound I make. I sit and beat the wizard's magic drum; And Chibela'kwe, night-air spirit, flies To hearken to the mystic sound I make; And old Wu'cho'sen, storm-bird of the North, Rests his great pinions, causing calm to reign, To hearken to the mystic sound I make. I sit and beat the wizard's magic drum; And Lumpeguin, who dwells beneath the wave, Arises to the surface struck with awe, To hearken to the mystic sound I make. E'en Atwuskniges, armed with axe of stone, Will cease his endless chopping, and be still To hearken to the mystic sound I make. I sit and beat the wizard's magic drum; And Appodumken, with his long, red hair, Ariseth from the depths, and draweth near To hearken to the mystic sound I make. The lightning, thunder, storm and forest sprite, The whirlwind, gale, and spirit of the deep, The Chibela'kwe, loathly night-air ghost, All come together, and with reverent mien Will hearken to the mystic sound I make. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE ZOO IN SPAIN by CLARENCE MAJOR TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE THE ARMADA; A FRAGMENT by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY TO GOD AND IRELAND TRUE by ELLEN O'LEARY CANADA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |