The Revenge of Rain-in-the-Face Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In that desolate land and lone,
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
       &nbsp Roar down their mountain path,
By their fires the Sioux Chiefs
Muttered their woes and griefs
       &nbsp And the menace of their wrath.

"Revenge!" cried Rain-in-the-Face,
"Revenue upon all the race
       &nbsp Of the White Chief with yellow hair!"
And the mountains dark and high
From their crags re-echoed the cry
       &nbsp Of his anger and despair.

In the meadow, spreading wide
By woodland and riverside
       &nbsp The Indian village stood;
All was silent as a dream,
Save the rushing a of the stream
       &nbsp And the blue-jay in the wood.

In his war paint and his beads,
Like a bison among the reeds,
       &nbsp In ambush the Sitting Bull
Lay with three thousand braves
Crouched in the clefts and caves,
       &nbsp Savage, unmerciful!