TO THE DRIVING CLOUD by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Longfellow speaks to a visiting Omaha chief as he walks through a bustling city, turning the poem into a reflection on the impact of westward expansion on Native American communities and their traditions.
The poem
Gloomy and dark art thou, O chief of the mighty Omahas; Gloomy and dark as the driving cloud, whose name thou hast taken! Wrapt in thy scarlet blanket, I see thee stalk through the city's Narrow and populous streets, as once by the margin of rivers Stalked those birds unknown, that have left us only their footprints. What, in a few short years, will remain of thy race but the footprints? How canst thou walk these streets, who hast trod the green turf of the prairies! How canst thou breathe this air, who hast breathed the sweet air of the mountains! Ah! 't is in vain that with lordly looks of disdain thou dost challenge Looks of disdain in return, and question these walls and these pavements, Claiming the soil for thy hunting-grounds, while down-trodden millions Starve in the garrets of Europe, and cry from its caverns that they, too, Have been created heirs of the earth, and claim its division! Back, then, back to thy woods in the regions west of the Wabash! There as a monarch thou reignest. In autumn the leaves of the maple Pave the floors of thy palace-halls with gold, and in summer Pine-trees waft through its chambers the odorous breath of their branches. There thou art strong and great, a hero, a tamer of horses! There thou chasest the stately stag on the banks of the Elkhorn, Or by the roar of the Running-Water, or where the Omaha Calls thee, and leaps through the wild ravine like a brave of the Blackfeet! Hark! what murmurs arise from the heart of those mountainous deserts? Is it the cry of the Foxes and Crows, or the mighty Behemoth, Who, unharmed, on his tusks once caught the bolts of the thunder, And now lurks in his lair to destroy the race of the red man? Far more fatal to thee and thy race than the Crows and the Foxes, Far more fatal to thee and thy race than the tread of Behemoth, Lo! the big thunder-canoe, that steadily breasts the Missouri's Merciless current! and yonder, afar on the prairies, the camp-fires Gleam through the night; and the cloud of dust in the gray of the daybreak Marks not the buffalo's track, nor the Mandan's dexterous horse-race; It is a caravan, whitening the desert where dwell the Camanches! Ha! how the breath of these Saxons and Celts, like the blast of the east-wind, Drifts evermore to the west the scanty smokes of thy wigwams!
Longfellow speaks to a visiting Omaha chief as he walks through a bustling city, turning the poem into a reflection on the impact of westward expansion on Native American communities and their traditions. He encourages the chief to return to his homeland, depicting it as a place of stunning beauty. However, the last stanza reveals that even this homeland is being overtaken by settlers heading west. The poem concludes not with optimism, but with a stark image of European immigrants — "Saxons and Celts" — driving the final remnants of Indigenous life closer to extinction.
Line-by-line
Gloomy and dark art thou, O chief of the mighty Omahas; / Gloomy and dark as the driving cloud, whose name thou hast taken!
How canst thou walk these streets, who hast trod the green turf of the prairies! / How canst thou breathe this air, who hast breathed the sweet air of the mountains!
Back, then, back to thy woods in the regions west of the Wabash! / There as a monarch thou reignest.
Hark! what murmurs arise from the heart of those mountainous deserts? / Is it the cry of the Foxes and Crows, or the mighty Behemoth,
Tone & mood
The tone of the poem changes through its four stanzas in a manner reminiscent of the stages of grief. It begins with a sense of solemnity and foreboding, shifts to a mix of pity and discomfort, brightens briefly into romantic admiration, and finally ends with a feeling of dread. Longfellow does not celebrate westward expansion — he views it as a catastrophe — yet his sympathy is colored by the paternalistic views of his time, creating an uneasy undertone. The overall mood is elegiac: this is a poem mourning something that is already fading away.
Symbols & metaphors
- The driving cloud — The chief's name and the poem's title, the driving cloud symbolizes the chief's identity and his people's fate — strong and apparent, yet ultimately unable to prevent its own scattering across the sky.
- Footprints — Footprints, mentioned twice in the opening stanza, symbolize what remains after a people or species disappear. Longfellow likens the Omaha to extinct prehistoric birds, whose presence is known only through their fossil tracks — a stark representation of cultural and physical loss.
- The scarlet blanket — The chief's blanket makes him stand out both visually and culturally in the city, yet it also represents his dignity and identity. It's the one item that remains distinct amidst the urban crowd surrounding him.
- The big thunder-canoe — A steamboat on the Missouri River, this image captures the industrial-age expansion of settlers—mechanical, relentless, and uncaring about what it displaces. It stands as a stark symbol of the forces that are dismantling Indigenous life.
- Wigwam smoke — In the closing lines, the smoke from wigwams drifting westward on the breath of 'Saxons and Celts' serves as a subtle metaphor for a community being driven from their land until there’s nowhere left to turn.
- Behemoth — Behemoth, a creature of immense power from the Book of Job, is employed by Longfellow to illustrate that even the most fearsome natural force poses less threat to the Omaha than the influx of European settlers. This rhetorical escalation highlights the magnitude of the catastrophe they faced.
Historical context
Longfellow published this poem in 1842 as part of his collection *Poems on Slavery*, although it doesn't focus solely on slavery. Instead, it shares space with those poems due to a wider moral concern regarding injustice in America. The 1840s were marked by aggressive westward expansion; the Indian Removal Act of 1830 had already displaced tens of thousands of Native Americans from their eastern lands, and the pressure on the Great Plains nations was increasing. Longfellow likely met the Omaha chief during a trip to Washington, D.C., where Native leaders were sometimes presented to government officials. His poem captures the era's conflicting views—genuine sympathy for Indigenous peoples mixed with a romanticized, distant perspective that sees them as noble but doomed, while avoiding a full acknowledgment of the settler colonialism that was causing their plight.
FAQ
Longfellow is speaking to a genuine Omaha chief he likely met in person, possibly in a city like Washington, D.C., or Boston. The chief's name means something akin to 'driving cloud,' which inspired the poem's title. Longfellow addresses him directly throughout the piece, using 'thou' and 'thee,' creating the impression of a one-sided dialogue.
He compares the Omaha people to long-extinct prehistoric birds, known only through fossilized footprints. This grim prediction suggests that the Omaha, and Native Americans in general, may vanish so completely that only remnants of their existence will linger. It’s one of the most striking lines in the poem.
When the chief gazes at the city with disdain and asserts his people's right to the land, Longfellow responds by highlighting the millions of impoverished Europeans who are equally yearning for land and opportunity. It's a complex argument—Longfellow appears to suggest that the chief's claim, though valid, can't stand against the overwhelming force of that human wave. Many contemporary readers see this as the most troubling aspect of the poem because it implicitly legitimizes dispossession.
He feels sympathy, but it's shaped by the views of his era. He recognizes that westward expansion is harmful and grieves for what’s being lost. However, he views the chief more as a romantic character from a fading world than as a political equal, and he doesn’t challenge the idea of halting the expansion itself. His sympathy is genuine, yet it comes across as paternalistic.
It’s a steamboat on the Missouri River. By the 1840s, these vessels were venturing deeper into the continent, transporting settlers and soldiers. Longfellow paints a vivid picture of a boat "breasting the merciless current," symbolizing the relentless drive of industrial-age expansion.
Behemoth, mentioned in the Book of Job in the Bible, is a creature of immense, almost otherworldly strength. Longfellow uses it as a reference point: even a fearsome creature like Behemoth poses less of a threat to the Omaha than the influx of European settlers. This serves as a rhetorical device to emphasize just how overwhelming the danger truly is.
The poem is crafted in dactylic hexameter — the same meter found in ancient Greek and Latin epic poetry, and the same meter Longfellow later employed in *The Song of Hiawatha*. Each line follows a long-short-short rhythmic pattern that creates a flowing, chant-like quality. Longfellow chose this meter intentionally to lend the subject an epic, timeless significance.
That tension lies at the emotional heart of the poem. In the third stanza, the chief is urged to return to his homeland, depicted as a paradise. However, the fourth stanza quickly unveils that this homeland is already under siege from settlers and their wagon trains. The advice to 'go back' feels empty before it's even fully stated. Longfellow appears to recognize this, as the poem concludes not with a resolution but with a haunting image of smoke drifting westward into oblivion.