Hiawatha hears human speech in the sounds of Nature; thus he understands Nature's speech. The wind says, "Wawa." The cry of the wild goose is "Wawa." Wah-wah-taysee means the small glowworm which enchants him. Thus the poet paints most beautifully the gradual gathering of external nature into the compass of the subjective,[16] and the intimate connection of the primary object to which the first lisping words were applied, and from which the first sounds were derived, with the secondary object, the wider nature which usurps imperceptibly the mother's place, and takes possession of those sounds heard first from the mother, and also of those feelings which we all discover later in ourselves in all the warm love of Mother Nature. The later blending, whether pantheistic-philosophic or æsthetic, of the sentimental, cultured man with nature is, looked at retrospectively, a reblending with the mother, who was our primary object, and with whom we truly were once wholly one.[17] Therefore, it is not astonishing when we again see emerging in the poetical speech of a modern philosopher, Karl Joël, the old pictures which symbolize the unity with the mother, illustrated by the confluence of subject and object. In his recent book, "Seele und Welt" (1912), Joël writes as follows, in the chapter called "Primal Experience"[18]:
"I lay on the seashore, the shining waters glittering in my
dreamy eyes; at a great distance fluttered the soft breeze; throbbing,
shimmering, stirring, lulling to sleep comes the wave beat to
the shore—or to the ear? I know not. Distance and nearness
become blurred into one; without and within glide into each
