On thy prairie's line
Tribes older than thine,
Old Chief of the Cree?"

"Before us we know
Of none who lived here;
Our shafts bade them go.

"But others have share
Of lake and of land,
A swift-footed band
No arrow can scare.

"Their coming has been
When flowers are gay;
On islet and bay
Their footprints are seen.

"There dance little feet
Light grasses they break;
Beneath the blue lake
Must be their retreat.

"We listen, and none
Hears ever a sound;
But where, lily-crowned,
Floats the isle in the sun,

"Three children we see
Like sunbeams at play.