I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair, I will paint me with black and will sever my hair:— I will sit on the shore where the hurricane blows, And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes:— I will weep for a season, on bitterness fed, For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead; But they died not by hunger, or ling’ring decay, The steel of the white man hath swept them away.
This snake skin, that once I so sacredly wore, I will toss with disdain on the storm-beaten shore; Its charms I no longer obey or invoke, Its spirit hath left me, its spell is now broke. I will raise up my voice to the source of the light, I will dream on the wings of the blue-bird at night, I will speak to the spirits that whisper in leaves, And that minister balm to the bosom that grieves, And will take a new manito—such as shall seem To be kind and propitious in every dream. Oh, then, I shall banish these cankering sighs, And tears shall no longer gush salt from my eyes. I shall wash from my face every peace-color’d stain, Red, red! shall alone on my visage remain. I will dig up my hatchet and bend my oak bow, By night and by day, I will follow the foe; No lake shall repress me—no mountain oppose, His blood can alone give my spirit repose.
They came to my cabin when heaven was black, I heard not their coming—I knew not their track, But I saw by the light of their blazing fusees, They were people engender’d beyond the big seas. My wife and my children—oh spare me the tale,— But who is there left, that is kin to Geehale?
A sweet, retiring, simple, modest mien, Not shunning, and not seeking to be seen; A taste in dress and each domestic care, Neat but not gaudy, pleasing without glare; Such have I often wished “heaven’s last best gift” should be, Such have I oft, with joy, remarked in thee.
An even temper, mild, endearing, kind, A sound, discreet, and regulated mind, Improved by reading, by reflection formed, By reason guided, by religion warmed. This have I often prayed “heaven’s last best gift” to be, This have I oft, with joy, remarked in thee.
Benevolent to all, to soothe or cure, But a firm friend to all the neighb’ring poor; The poor in worldly goods, or _bon ton_ merit, The sunk in sickness, and the bow’d in spirit. This have I often hoped “heaven’s last best gift” to be, This have I oft, with joy, remarked in thee.