New Hampshire Statesman And State Journal

THE
INDIAN
GIRL'S
LAMENT

An Indian girl was sitting where
Her lover, slain in battle, slept;
Her maiden veil (her own black hair)
Came down o'er eyes that wept;
And wildly in her woodland tongue,
This sad and simple lay she sung:

"I've pulled away the shrubs that grew
Too close above thy sleeping head,
And broke the forest boughs that threw
Their shadow o'er thy bed,
That, shining from the sweet southwest,
The sunbeams might rejoice thy rest.

"It was a weary, weary road
That lead thee to the pleasant coast,
Where thou, in his serene abode,
Hast met thy father's ghost;
Where everlasting autumn lies
On yellow woods and sunny skies.

" 'Twas I the broidered moc'sin made
That shod thee for that distant land;
'Twas I thy bow and arrows laid
Beside thy still, cold hand;
Thy bow, in many a battle bent,
Thy arrows, never vainly sent.

"With wampum belts I crossed thy breast,
And wrapped thee in thy bison's hide,
And laid the food that pleased thee best,
In plenty by thy side;
And decked thee bravely, as became
A warrior of illustrious name.

"Thou'rt happy now, for thou hast past
The long, dark journey of the grave,
And in the land of light at last
Hast joined the good and brave;
Amid the flushed and balmy air,
The bravest and the loveliest there.

"Yet oft thine own dear Indian maid,
Ev'n there thy thoughts will earthward sway,
To her who sits where thou wert laid,
And weeps the hours away:
Yet almost can her grief forget,
To think that thou dost love her yet.

"And thou, by one of those still lakes,
That in a shining cluster lie,
On which the south winds scarcely breaks
The image of the sky,
A bower for thee and me has made
Beneath the many-colored shade.

"And thou dost wait and watch to meet
My spirit sent to join the blest.
And, wondering what detains my feet
From the bright land of rest,
Dost seem, in every sound, to hear
The rustling of my footsteps near."