PAU-PUK-KEEWIS by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Pau-Puk-Keewis is the trickster of Hiawatha's village — charming, reckless, and always looking for a good time at the expense of others.
The poem
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, He, the handsome Yenadizze, Whom the people called the Storm-Fool, Vexed the village with disturbance; You shall hear of all his mischief, And his flight from Hiawatha, And his wondrous transmigrations, And the end of his adventures. On the shores of Gitche Gumee, On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo, By the shining Big-Sea-Water Stood the lodge of Pau-Puk-Keewis. It was he who in his frenzy Whirled these drifting sands together, On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo, When, among the guests assembled, He so merrily and madly Danced at Hiawatha's wedding, Danced the Beggar's Dance to please them. Now, in search of new adventures, From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis, Came with speed into the village, Found the young men all assembled In the lodge of old Iagoo, Listening to his monstrous stories, To his wonderful adventures. He was telling them the story Of Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker, How he made a hole in heaven, How he climbed up into heaven, And let out the summer-weather, The perpetual, pleasant Summer; How the Otter first essayed it; How the Beaver, Lynx, and Badger Tried in turn the great achievement, From the summit of the mountain Smote their fists against the heavens, Smote against the sky their foreheads, Cracked the sky, but could not break it; How the Wolverine, uprising, Made him ready for the encounter, Bent his knees down, like a squirrel, Drew his arms back, like a cricket. "Once he leaped," said old Iagoo, "Once he leaped, and lo! above him Bent the sky, as ice in rivers When the waters rise beneath it; Twice he leaped, and lo! above him Cracked the sky, as ice in rivers When the freshet is at highest! Thrice he leaped, and lo! above him Broke the shattered sky asunder, And he disappeared within it, And Ojeeg, the Fisher Weasel, With a bound went in behind him!" "Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis As he entered at the doorway; "I am tired of all this talking, Tired of old Iagoo's stories, Tired of Hiawatha's wisdom. Here is something to amuse you, Better than this endless talking." Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin Forth he drew, with solemn manner, All the game of Bowl and Counters, Pugasaing, with thirteen pieces. White on one side were they painted, And vermilion on the other; Two Kenabeeks or great serpents, Two Ininewug or wedge-men, One great war-club, Pugamaugun, And one slender fish, the Keego, Four round pieces, Ozawabeeks, And three Sheshebwug or ducklings. All were made of bone and painted, All except the Ozawabeeks; These were brass, on one side burnished, And were black upon the other. In a wooden bowl he placed them, Shook and jostled them together, Threw them on the ground before him, Thus exclaiming and explaining: "Red side up are all the pieces, And one great Kenabeek standing On the bright side of a brass piece, On a burnished Ozawabeek; Thirteen tens and eight are counted." Then again he shook the pieces, Shook and jostled them together, Threw them on the ground before him, Still exclaiming and explaining: "White are both the great Kenabeeks, White the Ininewug, the wedge-men, Red are all the other pieces; Five tens and an eight are counted." Thus he taught the game of hazard, Thus displayed it and explained it, Running through its various chances, Various changes, various meanings: Twenty curious eyes stared at him, Full of eagerness stared at him. "Many games," said old Iagoo, "Many games of skill and hazard Have I seen in different nations, Have I played in different countries. He who plays with old Iagoo Must have very nimble fingers; Though you think yourself so skilful, I can beat you, Pau-Puk-Keewis, I can even give you lessons In your game of Bowl and Counters!" So they sat and played together, All the old men and the young men, Played for dresses, weapons, wampum, Played till midnight, played till morning, Played until the Yenadizze, Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis, Of their treasures had despoiled them, Of the best of all their dresses, Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine, Belts of wampum, crests of feathers, Warlike weapons, pipes and pouches. Twenty eyes glared wildly at him, Like the eyes of wolves glared at him. Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis: "In my wigwam I am lonely, In my wanderings and adventures I have need of a companion, Fain would have a Meshinauwa, An attendant and pipe-bearer. I will venture all these winnings, All these garments heaped about me, All this wampum, all these feathers, On a single throw will venture All against the young man yonder!" 'T was a youth of sixteen summers, 'T was a nephew of Iagoo; Face-in-a-Mist, the people called him. As the fire burns in a pipe-head Dusky red beneath the ashes, So beneath his shaggy eyebrows Glowed the eyes of old Iagoo. "Ugh!" he answered very fiercely; "Ugh!" they answered all and each one. Seized the wooden bowl the old man, Closely in his bony fingers Clutched the fatal bowl, Onagon, Shook it fiercely and with fury, Made the pieces ring together As he threw them down before him. Red were both the great Kenabeeks, Red the Ininewug, the wedge-men, Red the Sheshebwug, the ducklings, Black the four brass Ozawabeeks, White alone the fish, the Keego; Only five the pieces counted! Then the smiling Pau-Puk-Keewis Shook the bowl and threw the pieces; Lightly in the air he tossed them, And they fell about him scattered; Dark and bright the Ozawabeeks, Red and white the other pieces, And upright among the others One Ininewug was standing, Even as crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis Stood alone among the players, Saying, "Five tens! mine the game is!" Twenty eyes glared at him fiercely, Like the eyes of wolves glared at him, As he turned and left the wigwam, Followed by his Meshinauwa, By the nephew of Iagoo, By the tall and graceful stripling, Bearing in his arms the winnings, Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine, Belts of wampum, pipes and weapons. "Carry them," said Pau-Puk-Keewis, Pointing with his fan of feathers, "To my wigwam far to eastward, On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo!" Hot and red with smoke and gambling Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis As he came forth to the freshness Of the pleasant Summer morning. All the birds were singing gayly, All the streamlets flowing swiftly, And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis Sang with pleasure as the birds sing, Beat with triumph like the streamlets, As he wandered through the village, In the early gray of morning, With his fan of turkey-feathers, With his plumes and tufts of swan's down, Till he reached the farthest wigwam, Reached the lodge of Hiawatha. Silent was it and deserted; No one met him at the doorway, No one came to bid him welcome; But the birds were singing round it, In and out and round the doorway, Hopping, singing, fluttering, feeding, And aloft upon the ridge-pole Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens, Sat with fiery eyes, and, screaming, Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis. "All are gone! the lodge is empty!" Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis, In his heart resolving mischief;-- "Gone is wary Hiawatha, Gone the silly Laughing Water, Gone Nokomis, the old woman, And the lodge is left unguarded!" By the neck he seized the raven, Whirled it round him like a rattle, Like a medicine-pouch he shook it, Strangled Kahgahgee, the raven, From the ridge-pole of the wigwam Left its lifeless body hanging, As an insult to its master, As a taunt to Hiawatha. With a stealthy step he entered, Round the lodge in wild disorder Threw the household things about him, Piled together in confusion Bowls of wood and earthen kettles, Robes of buffalo and beaver, Skins of otter, lynx, and ermine, As an insult to Nokomis, As a taunt to Minnehaha. Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis, Whistling, singing through the forest, Whistling gayly to the squirrels, Who from hollow boughs above him Dropped their acorn-shells upon him, Singing gayly to the wood birds, Who from out the leafy darkness Answered with a song as merry. Then he climbed the rocky headlands, Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee, Perched himself upon their summit, Waiting full of mirth and mischief The return of Hiawatha. Stretched upon his back he lay there; Far below him plashed the waters, Plashed and washed the dreamy waters; Far above him swam the heavens, Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens; Round him hovered, fluttered, rustled Hiawatha's mountain chickens, Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him, Almost brushed him with their pinions. And he killed them as he lay there, Slaughtered them by tens and twenties, Threw their bodies down the headland, Threw them on the beach below him, Till at length Kayoshk, the sea-gull, Perched upon a crag above them, Shouted: "It is Pau-Puk-Keewis! He is slaying us by hundreds! Send a message to our brother, Tidings send to Hiawatha!"
Pau-Puk-Keewis is the trickster of Hiawatha's village — charming, reckless, and always looking for a good time at the expense of others. In this episode from Longfellow's epic, he interrupts a storytelling session, cheats the young men in a gambling game, wins a servant boy, and then vandalizes Hiawatha's home just for kicks. He wraps up the section lounging on a cliff, killing birds by the hundreds, until the seagulls alert Hiawatha that trouble is brewing.
Line-by-line
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, / He, the handsome Yenadizze,
On the shores of Gitche Gumee, / On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,
Now, in search of new adventures, / From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis,
How the Otter first essayed it; / How the Beaver, Lynx, and Badger
"Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis / As he entered at the doorway;
Thus he taught the game of hazard, / Thus displayed it and explained it,
Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis: / "In my wigwam I am lonely,
Hot and red with smoke and gambling / Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Silent was it and deserted; / No one met him at the doorway,
Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis, / Whistling, singing through the forest,
Tone & mood
The tone is playful and full of swagger, with a darker undercurrent lurking beneath. Longfellow maintains a lively rhythm—the trochaic tetrameter keeps the pace upbeat—perfect for a character driven by momentum and lacking in conscience. The gambling scenes provide genuine comedy, especially when Pau-Puk-Keewis breezily walks out of the lodge he just destroyed. However, the murders on the headland bring in a colder vibe, leading the poem toward an impending reckoning. It feels like a folk tale told with a grin that gradually fades away.
Symbols & metaphors
- The gambling game (Pugasaing) — The bowl-and-counter game goes beyond mere entertainment; it serves as a way for Pau-Puk-Keewis to establish dominance within the community. By taking the possessions of young men and ultimately winning a human servant, he transforms a social ritual into a conquest. The game's intricate rules and named pieces reflect Longfellow's intention to capture genuine Ojibwe material culture.
- Kahgahgee the Raven — Ravens hold significant roles as messengers and guardians in various Indigenous traditions. Kahgahgee perches on Hiawatha's ridge-pole, screaming a warning that Pau-Puk-Keewis disregards and then silences. Strangling the bird and hanging its body goes beyond mere cruelty; it challenges Hiawatha's authority directly and disrespects the spiritual guardian of his home.
- Gitche Gumee (Lake Superior) — The great lake serves as a constant backdrop in the poem, symbolizing the vast and indifferent natural world that overshadows human actions. After committing his crimes, Pau-Puk-Keewis sits above it, feeling triumphant, yet the sheer scale of the lake subtly diminishes his sense of victory. It also acts as the channel for the alarm to be raised — the seagulls that inhabit its waters become the messengers of justice.
- The sand dunes of Nagow Wudjoo — Pau-Puk-Keewis is said to have created these dunes with his wild dancing. They reflect his presence in the landscape — beautiful, restless, and born from chaos. Revisiting them at the end of the section connects his character to a wild, creative-destructive energy that reshapes the world without concern for the consequences.
- The birds (mountain chickens and sea-gulls) — The birds Pau-Puk-Keewis slaughters on the headland mark the moment when his mischief crosses into real harm. Before, his tricks involved social antics — gambling, vandalism, and provocation. But killing Hiawatha's mountain chickens by the hundreds is just pointless destruction. The sea-gulls that survive and carry the news to Hiawatha symbolize the community's ability to respond and hold wrongdoers accountable.
Historical context
This poem is a section from *The Song of Hiawatha* (1855), Longfellow's extensive narrative poem about an Ojibwe hero. Longfellow drew heavily from Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's ethnographic writings on the Ojibwe and other Great Lakes tribes, and he adopted his unique trochaic tetrameter from the Finnish national epic *Kalevala*. Pau-Puk-Keewis serves as the poem's trickster figure — a character type found in various Indigenous oral traditions, who disrupts social norms, reveals their flaws, and often faces consequences. Longfellow wrote during a period when there was significant American fascination with romanticizing Indigenous life, even as the U.S. government was forcibly displacing Native peoples. The poem gained immense popularity in its time, although later critics have noted its tendency to oversimplify complex traditions into a single, idealized story. The Pugasaing gambling game and the Ojibwe place names Longfellow includes are based on actual sources, giving the poem a level of ethnographic detail that was quite rare for its time.
FAQ
Pau-Puk-Keewis is the trickster of Hiawatha's village — charming, impulsive, and drawn to chaos. The Ojibwe word "Yenadizze" refers to someone foolish or irresponsible, and "Storm-Fool" fits him well: he sweeps through the community like a storm, creating turmoil and leaving disorder behind. He isn't truly evil, but he cares little for the wisdom or order that Hiawatha embodies.
Yes, Pugasaing, also known as the bowl game, is an authentic gambling game played by the Ojibwe. Players throw carved pieces made of bone or brass into a wooden bowl and score points depending on how the pieces land. Longfellow gathered these details from the ethnographic records of Henry Rowe Schoolcraft. The pieces — Kenabeeks (serpents), Ininewug (wedge-men), Sheshebwug (ducklings), and Ozawabeeks (brass discs) — are described with remarkable accuracy for a poem from the 19th century.
It’s a calculated provocation. He discovers the lodge empty and sees an opportunity to publicly humiliate Hiawatha. By hanging the strangled raven on the ridge-pole and creating chaos in the household, he aims to insult Hiawatha — it’s almost as if he’s daring him to retaliate. The trickster craves a worthy opponent, and this is his way of throwing down the gauntlet.
The poem uses trochaic tetrameter, which consists of four stressed-unstressed beats per line, beginning with a stressed syllable. It sounds like: *YOU shall HEAR how PAU-puk-KEE-wis*. Longfellow borrowed this meter straight from the Finnish epic *Kalevala*. This pattern gives it a chanting, drum-like quality that suits its oral tradition roots, but if you read a lot of it at once, it can feel a bit relentless.
Iagoo, the village storyteller, is a charming braggart—an endearing windbag. His tale of Ojeeg the Summer-Maker is rooted in Ojibwe oral tradition, where a group of animals attempts to break through the sky to bring forth summer, and it's the Wolverine who ultimately triumphs. This creation myth offers an explanation for the changing seasons. Pau-Puk-Keewis interrupts not because the story is poor, but simply because he can't help himself; he finds it impossible to sit still and listen.
Yes. "Pau-Puk-Keewis" is one chapter in *The Song of Hiawatha* (1855), which is a lengthy narrative poem divided into 22 sections. The poem tells the story of Hiawatha, following his life from birth, through his marriage to Minnehaha, and ultimately to his journey westward. Pau-Puk-Keewis shows up in multiple chapters — after this one, Hiawatha pursues him, but he manages to evade capture by transforming into different shapes before ultimately being killed.
Longfellow relied on Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's extensive ethnographic records of Great Lakes Indigenous peoples, which featured Ojibwe vocabulary, place names, and stories. His use of original words aimed for both authenticity and aesthetic appeal — terms like "Gitche Gumee" and "Minnehaha" added an exotic, musical quality that resonated with 19th-century readers. It's important for modern readers to recognize that Longfellow was distanced from the actual communities, resulting in a romanticized portrayal.
Ravens are seen as messengers and protectors in various Indigenous cultures. Kahgahgee perches on Hiawatha's ridge-pole, shrieking a warning at Pau-Puk-Keewis — a warning that he ignores. By choking the bird and leaving its lifeless form to dangle, Pau-Puk-Keewis isn’t just acting out of cruelty; he’s silencing a guardian and violating a sacred area. This marks the point where his playful antics take a more sinister turn.