FROM his shoulder Hiawatha 
Took the camera of rosewood, 
Made of sliding, folding rosewood; 
Neatly put it all together. 
In its case it lay compactly, 
Folded into nearly nothing; 
But he opened out the hinges, 
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges, 
Till it looked all squares and oblongs, 
Like a complicated figure 
In the Second Book of Euclid. 

This he perched upon a tripod - 
Crouched beneath its dusky cover - 
Stretched his hand, enforcing silence - 
Said "Be motionless, I beg you!" 
Mystic, awful was the process. 


All the family in order 
Sat before him for their pictures: 
Each in turn, as he was taken, 
Volunteered his own suggestions, 
His ingenious suggestions.