Mike Oldfield - Part Two

By The Shore Of Gitche Gumee By The Shining Big-Sea-Water At The Doorway Of The Wigwam In The Early Summer Morning Hiawatha Stood And Waited All The Air Was Full Of Freshness All The Earth Was Bright And Joyous And Before Him Through The Sunshine Westward Toward The Neighbouring Forest Passed In Golden Swams, The Ahmo Passed The Bees, The Honey-Makers Burning, Singing In The Sunshine Bright Above Him Shone The Heavens Level Spread The Lake Before Him; From Its Bosom Leaped The Sturgeon Sparkling, Flashing In The Sunshine On Its Margin The Great Forest Stood Reflected In The Water Every Tree-Top Had Its Shadow Motionless Beneath The Water From The Brow Of Hiawatha Gone Was Every Trace Of Sorrow As The Fog From Off The Water As The Mist Of The Meadow With A Smile Of Joy And Gladness With A Look Of Exultation As Of One Who In A Vision Sees What Is To Be, But Is Not Stood And Waited Hiawatha Toward The Sun His Hands Were Lifted Both The Palms Spread Out Towards It And Between The Parted Fingers Feel The Sunshine On His Features Flecked With Light His Naked Shoulders As It Falls And Flecks An Oak-Tree Through The Rifted Leaves And Branches O'er The Water Floating, Flying Something In The Hazy Distance Something In The Mist Of Morning Loomed And Lifted From The Water Now Seemed Floating, Now Seemed Flying Coming Nearer, Nearer, Nearer Was It Shingebis, The Diver? Or The Pelican, The Shada? Or The Heron, The Shuh-Shuh-Gah? Or The White Goose, Waw-Be-Wawa, With The Water Dripping, Flashing From Its Glossy Neck And Feathers? It Was Neither Goose Or Diver Neither Pelican Nor Heron O'er The Water Floating, Flying Through The Shining Mist Of Morning But A Birch Canoe With Paddles Rising, Sinking In The Sunshine Dripping, Flashing In The Sunshine And Within It Came A People Can It Be The Sun Descending O'er The Level Plain Of Water Or The Red Swan Floatin, Flying Wounded By The Magic Arrow Staining All The Waves With Crimson With The Crimson Of Its Lifeblood Filling All The Air With Splendour Filling All The Air With Plumage Yes, It Is The Sun Descending Sinking Down Into The Water All The Sky Is Stained With Purple All The Water Flushed With Crimson! No, It Is The Red Swan Floating Diving Down Beneath The Water To The Sky Its Wings Are Lifted With Its Blood The Waves Are Reddened! Over It The Star Of Evening Melts And Trembles Through The Purple Hangs Suspended In The Twilight Walks In Silence Through The Heavens! (H. W. Longfellow. Vocals: Maddy Prior)