POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
But now, but now, thy earthliness departed,
De Leon’s fount is won;
And all the dead who left thee, broken hearted,
Outgleam the primal sun.
There Micanopy, with his plumes vermilion,
Stalks by the glittering ring,
There Tustenuggee, ’neath a rich pavilion,
Ay “every inch a King!”
There Osceola, warlike, wise and sparing,
Outsoars the belting wave,
There Coacbochee, warlike, wild and daring,
From his bleak western grave.
There, the Great Spirit, in his car of thunder,
Salutes thee with a smile,
“Live on, my son!” The clouds are rent asunder
About the funeral pile.
Dark Withlacoochee caught the magic meaning,
Triumphant with St. John,
And bore it on, with every ripple gleaming,
“Live on! Live on! Live on!”
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