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

THE BROKEN HEART. 219
Though eager looked her tearful eyes
To see some home-returning trace,
Oh, never on her sight would rise
That Chee-maun from the Council-place
!
Nor form of him, beloved,
for whom
She patient watched each lonely day;
Whose smile alone could light the gloom,
Could kindle new life's failing ray.
Still up and down her footsteps pressed,
Unmarked the shadows falling dim ;
She, wearied, felt no weariness,
But only care for her and him ;
For her, the little maiden sweet,
Joy of the life from whence it grew ;
For him so wise and good and great,
Who might the wigwam's joy renew.
The dews of midnight cold and wet
Fell on her woman's brow of care,
Till silvered shone each tress of jet ;
Though late with aching brow and bare
She waited on the troubled shore,
She heeded not the falling chill ;
But felt her sorrow deepen more.
But felt the fear foreboding ill ;
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