The league of the Iroquois and other legends : from the Indian muse

THE WOOING. 87
To where beside the emerald flood,
And radiant as the rising morn,
Stood beauteous in her maidenhood,
Stood mid the summer's springing corn
The loveliest of forest maids ;
To careful pluck the weedy spears,
Make mellow round the rising blades ;
Glad counting on the ripened ears.
As frequent to each tender breast,
Or whence or wherefore all unknown,
Will come a trouble and unrest,
A tearful sorrow, not its own,
So oft above or thought or will
May soar the spirit glad and ga} r ,
Its pulses feel the joyous thrill
Of other heart-beat far away.
And to the maiden where she stood,
The flitting zephyr's soft caress,
The dewy, newly-burgeoned wood
Seemed burdened with a secret bliss ;
The tiny throats that warbling sang,
More thrilling melody expressed ;
Nor knew she, while their matins rang,
The deeper chord was in her breast.