the indian's bride.
35
What will she, for her happy home,
Where peace and plenty smile?
Oh, cruel was the heart, methinks,
That could her steps beguile!
Where peace and plenty smile?
Oh, cruel was the heart, methinks,
That could her steps beguile!
And when the wild romance is past—
The foolish dream is o'er—
Will she not think upon the home
Which she shall see no more?
The foolish dream is o'er—
Will she not think upon the home
Which she shall see no more?
Will not her mother's voice, at eve.
Steal 'mid those woods so dim,
Borne on the fragrance of the breeze,
Soft as a vesper hymn?
Steal 'mid those woods so dim,
Borne on the fragrance of the breeze,
Soft as a vesper hymn?
Her sister's, too,—the gentle girl,
Who bound the flowerets fair,
While tear-drops fell, like glittering pearls,
Amid her golden hair?
Who bound the flowerets fair,
While tear-drops fell, like glittering pearls,
Amid her golden hair?
And her fond father,—he who strove,
In tones of choking woe,
To bless His darling ere he bade—
Ah, Badly bade—her go,
In tones of choking woe,
To bless His darling ere he bade—
Ah, Badly bade—her go,
