Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Burial of a Pilgrim Father in America, 1630

Burial of a Pilgrim Father in America, 1630.

We anxiously hallowed the frozen ground,
And heaped up this lonely barrow,
For the Indian lurked in the woods around,
And we feared his whistling arrow.

When the surf on the sea-beach heavily beat,
When the breeze in the wilderness muttered,
We deemed it the coming of hostile feet,
Or a watchword cautiously uttered.

Above, frowned the gloom of a winter's eve,
And around, the thick snow was falling;
And the winds in the dreary branches did grieve,
Like spirits to spirits calling.

As we looked on the spotless snowy sheet,
O'er the grave of our brother sweeping,
It seemed to us all an emblem meet
Of him beneath it sleeping.

As we gazed, we forgot our present pain;
And followed our brother's spirit,
Unto that fair heaven we hoped to gain,
Which the good after death inherit.

And we left the dust of our brother to lie
In its noisome habitation;
With the trust that his spirit had. flown on high,
To its heavenly destination.