Traditions of the Miami Valley, songs of the West and other poems . nt of the white andhated race. Had he trapped and brought a beaver or a young bear home with him,Or a live deer tied with tethers, they would not have noticed them. 48 MARY THARPE. Said an old gray man of battles, She looks not like they could a squaw said, looking at her, Wdiat can make her skin so white? She soon played around the wigwam as she used to play at home;Still she loved the tangled forest, where the wild flowers ever bloom; And she soon could speak their language with a graceful air of ease;And she love
Traditions of the Miami Valley, songs of the West and other poems . nt of the white andhated race. Had he trapped and brought a beaver or a young bear home with him,Or a live deer tied with tethers, they would not have noticed them. 48 MARY THARPE. Said an old gray man of battles, She looks not like they could a squaw said, looking at her, Wdiat can make her skin so white? She soon played around the wigwam as she used to play at home;Still she loved the tangled forest, where the wild flowers ever bloom; And she soon could speak their language with a graceful air of ease;And she loved her Indian mother, and she always tried to please. She would help make clothes in winter, when the days were cold and drear;And they used a bone-made needle from the ankle of a deer. \\^hen they heard the springtime music of the robin, thrush, and lark,They would catch the sap for sugar in their vessels made of bark. They raised corn and beans and squashes, gathered wild nuts from the wood;And they stored them in the autumn, that they might have winter food; 49. And her mother told her stories; there were many on her tongue;She told her about a river where she lived when she was young; That the tribes are still Aliami, though we see the stream no more;In its waters now are pictures of pale faces on the shore. 50 MARY THARPE. When a child I loved its waters. I was born upon the have played within the shadows of its lindens tall and rank. Long ago we left Miami to the White J\lan and onr tribes are on this river, on the Eel, and the Alanmee. Since we left that lovely valley we have not been back again;I now love the graceful W^abash as I loved that river then. Mary soon became an Indian in her acts and tastes and ways,And her thoughts and memory drifted from her home of early days; But her cacs were blue as ever, and her cheeks were rosy fair,And the wind was always playing with her soft and light brown hair. She wore clothes made out of deer skins, nicely wo
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