Wayside pictures, hymns, and poems . Ill tell you where my love is laid: O stranger, hear the Maniac Maid ! Beneath the tree he slumbers sweet; Wild wood-leaves are his winding-sheet; And sapless boughs that oer him wave. The victory-scalps that deck his grave. The forest-bird sobs for him ever, Nor stops his plaintive murmur never! His spirit through Elysium wings Its rapid flight, and sweetly sings: Or with his ponderous, twanging bow Sweeping the forests he doth go, Hiuiiug his cedar-shafts with dread. And stalking oer the prostrate dead ! Of all our tribe he was the flower. The best, the b
Wayside pictures, hymns, and poems . Ill tell you where my love is laid: O stranger, hear the Maniac Maid ! Beneath the tree he slumbers sweet; Wild wood-leaves are his winding-sheet; And sapless boughs that oer him wave. The victory-scalps that deck his grave. The forest-bird sobs for him ever, Nor stops his plaintive murmur never! His spirit through Elysium wings Its rapid flight, and sweetly sings: Or with his ponderous, twanging bow Sweeping the forests he doth go, Hiuiiug his cedar-shafts with dread. And stalking oer the prostrate dead ! Of all our tribe he was the flower. The best, the brightest in om- bower ! His heart would bleed when sorrow came. And danger roused his slumbering flame. They stole him when our hope-tree budded, And with green leaves the boughs were studded; And when again I sought and found him. The hungi-y wolves were roaring round him. The eagle oer his head was screaming. How shrill!—but, 0 ! my love was cheaming. He sleeps beneath the tall trees shade :— O stranger, hear the Maniac Maid!. KYNANCE COVE. 1
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookidwaysidepictu, bookyear1874
