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

72 THE LEAGUE OF THE IROQUOIS.
Her voice was like the wooing Spring,
Her cheek like Autumn's bronzed light ;
Her tresses like the Raven's wing,
Her eyes were like the brooding night
With 0-jis-hon-da shining through,
Some brightness that you might not guess ;
For when you saw you only knew
You saw a brimming tenderness.
light in shade ! land of dreams !
Deep in those darkened depths impearled,
As when Wo-ne-da's silver beams
Soft-mantle the nocturnal world.
No garden lilies undefiled,
No sweets their fragrance may possess,
Surpass the roses of the wild,
The beauty of the wilderness. 24
Nor in all outward charms alone
She grew, as grows the woodland flower ;
Though nurtured in the forest lone,
And with the forest-maiden's dower
*
Of ruder toil and sorest need,
So schooled was she to do and bear,
That her to know, you knew indeed
That one so good must needs be fair.