INDIAN MAIDEN'S LAMENT.
73
E'en the dark trees seemed to listen; Lower bent their stately heads,Bright with hues that on them glisten When the sun its last beams sheds.
"I am weary," said the maiden; "Like some bird lost from its home,All my song is sorrow-laden, As I through this forest roam.
"Farewell, O thou foaming river! With thy lovely flow'r-decked shore;Farewell,—aye, farewell forever; I shall greet thee nevermore.
"For I feel that I am drifting Onward to death's silent shores;Soon, these tired hands uplifting, I shall drop life's weary oars.
"Soon I'll reach those sunny islands In the far-off shining sea;Where upon their blooming highlands I shall roam forever free.
"There the smiles of that Great Spirit Shall repay the Indians' wrong;Brighter homes they will inherit Than the ones they loved so long.
