By the shores of Lake Ladoga
where the stars shine in the water,
stood a cottage made of birch-logs,
squat and sturdy, all of birch-logs,
where lived hazel-eyed, old Varpu,
old but smiling-visaged Varpu.
One deep night, in dead of winter,
when the sky danced with auroroa,
and the frosty tree-tops crackled
in the endless, chilly birchwood,
came a stranger to the cottage.
Tall and taciturn, the stranger
wandered from the endless birchwood
to the door of smiling Varpu,
knocked upon her door of birch-logs,
stood and begged in humble silence,
begged old Varpu – let me enter –
spoke no word, but one, “Longfellow”,
in a whisper, breathed “Longfellow”.
“Have you come from Kalevala
and is your name Leminkainen?
Have you wandered with the reindeer
from the distant reindeer pastures,
from the land of Goth and Viking,
from the sea-bound Åland Islands,
from the land of frozen mountains,
tall and taciturn tramontane?”
asked the hazel-eyed old Varpu.
Tall and taciturn, the stranger
turned on her such eyes of sadness,
though she gently bade him enter,
though she gave him food and shelter
in the warmth of her poor cottage,
though she smiled and beckoned to him.
Still the stranger spoke in whispers,
and in truth he uttered nothing,
spoke no word, but one, “Longfellow”.
Nothing said he, save “Longfellow”.
By the shores of Lake Ladoga
still the stars shine in the water,
always bright aurora dances
in the endless deep of winter,
in the endless grey of birchwood
where the North Wind pipes and mutters,
beats against the lakeside rushes,
sifts the sighing birchwood branches,
sifts the branches, never ending…
But the cottage is no longer
standing in the birchwood clearing,
where the water laps the shingle.
Gone is hazel-eyed, old Varpu,
she who once was smiles and laughter –
also gone the silent stranger.
But the North Wind oft times mutters
as it beats against the rushes…
One sad word it says, “Longfellow”…
Only whispering, “Longfellow”…
In a list
A contest entry
- Longfellow's Bicentenial Feb 27 1807-2007 by Tirrell.
800 points, ended February 9, 2007, 4 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 15 of 15
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Personally I think I should have been in among the metalwork here, but - hey - if we all judged our own material we'd never be off the podium!
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This has the air of two poems here a story of the vikings and that of hiawatha, as the images crisp to me as now when I read the passages here, softly do I see. Yet not in perfect view. Nice efforts here,
A nice elegy for Henry's Birthday. -
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Thanks Tirrell - Like I said to someone else, I had read that Longfellow had the rhythms of the Finnish Kalevala in his mind when he penned Hiawatha.
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And the North Wind gently rustles
Out among the fields of mussels
Fresh of water, never salted
Over banks of sea-weed vaulted
"Take the mussels, gently poach them
While we soft in coaches travel
And our stories deft unravel.....
Well Done, hen! Have a double!
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Thank 'ee
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I just adore this tribute. I suppose you could have entered it in my parodies contest but alas, Keith took the gold in that this morning. My dad will get a huge kick out of this. Thanks.
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Er... you didn't tell me you were running a parodies contest, did you? I could have entered it in both. Or I could have entered my Robert Browning!
Och Jings, I'm a'ways in the wrang place at the wrang time!
I am glad you liked this one, though.
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Hi, well great mindsthink alike they tell me we both thought to use the form of Hiawatha, nice one, liked it a lot, all the best in the comp, you have my applause, Di
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Looks like it! I remembered that Longfellow had the Kalevala in mind when he wrote Hiawatha, hence this pastiche. This contest is fun! Thanks for the applause. (I tend to read other entries when contests are over, by the way, or I wouldn't enter any - I'm funny that way.)
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{laughing} it's ok Bazza - it's a light-hearted pastiche on Longfellow's style, written for a contest. Love it or hate it, it's in the contest.
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Awful
Oh, my goodness, I'm sticking the pistol in my mouth now, with any luck I'll be dead before I can stop laughing--you are quite awful, but I guess you know that! Awful!
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This HAS to be the first time I have EVER been tickled pink to have a poem described as "awful".
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Truly Brilliant!
BRAVO!! One of the best poems you've ever written and I have read them all by now, I think! 
This fine adventure sounds good, looks great, and comes together like a fine Master Poem! 
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Thank you, Sweet Melodies... not bad for a straight rip-off, is it!
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