the spirit's voyage.
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But that they wear no smile of joy, And fondly watch its snowy wing, As if it were a holy thing:—Why send they forth their boat to be A plaything for the reckless sea "Oh, stranger! calm or wild the tide, Their light canoe will safely glide, And all unscathed by tempest-shock, By coral-reef or roughest rock, Ere morn, its white sail will be furl'd Forever in the spirit-world. A viewless hand that bark obeys, A voice unheard the sea-wave sways, A thing so holy and so fair, Serene and safe, is smiling there, That fiercest winds before it falter, And into harmless zephyrs alter.Ah! well may they the wanderer mark; For know,—within that blessed bark,The spirit of a little childIs playing on the waters wild!Behold our chieftain's burial-ground!We raised to-day another mound.Behold its lone and hallow'd tree So graceful and so fair was she.
