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

WINONA.
Slow through the purple gates of even
The hours to mournful measures move ;
As if the radiant hosts of heaven
Looked down with pitying eyes of love ;
As conscious of thy breaking heart,
that so lone and late
Winona,
And wildly weeping sitst apart,
Sad brooding on the morrow's fate.
tender Soul !
heart of grief
That trembles like the startled fawn,
Or flutters like the aspen leaf
Touched by the ruder breath of dawn !
What means thy look so all forlorn,
Thy pallid cheek and tearful eye ?
Alas'!
that thou must wed at morn,
Or morn will bring thy hour to die !
Where Ko-ko-ko-ho to the night
The hour of midnight sober calls,
Where far along the rocky height
The silver starlight softly falls,
Lo !
sorrowing maiden form appears ;
And lone the rocky steeps along
Now silent pour her anguished tears
Now troubled wakes her saddened song.