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

THE BROKEX HEART. 223
No loving heart or eye o'erbent
That darkened couch
her shroud and tomb,
Whose life with anguish overspent
Went out amid night's lonely gloom ;
With none to watch beside the dead,
To close the dear lids, staring vain ;
To make for her a lowly bed
A grassy grave along the plain.
Yet He, whose love is over all,
Whose helping hand is ever nigh,
Who hears the broodling sparrows call,
Nor lets their little want go by,
To beast and bird and reptile lent
Its meaner life,
and not in vain,
Low by that couch in pity bent,
To soothe its frenzied pulse of pain.
And shades that roam the starry shore
Came o'er the midnight's track of gloom,
Watched by that wigwam's lowly door
To bear a suffering spirit home.
On airy pinions far and fleet
Above life's weaker part upborn ;
To taste the bliss, the rapture meet
Of Virtue on the Hills of Morn.