*' d I ..'■art'. ; .( ' ( J' '". , ■/■■■' / \ \ J .'->> r;:: kk'' #►•* miU'B^c 4 • fc'ljkll' ^.w^'ty. '\.'n - ^r Class __j£.s>_a£:^-a: Book. .Mn[M3^ fapyrightr |^ /)7 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 1 I ^Ill^: A FLORIDA HAMMOCK. ^be %mb % Xove. lHilt)a nnutrbeat) IHorwoo^. Courtesy Ube Xat>ies THIlorl& of IRew 33orft. 1907 THE E. O. PAI NTER PRINTINCCO. DELANO, FLA. '^,07^" |L'lBBARY"ofCON©HE3S| Two Copies Receive;! JAN 4 1908 OoityriKiit tniti) I CLASS A XAc. Nu. COPY B. ^be Xanb l %ovc. Copyright 1907 by Hilda Muirhead Norwood. THE LAND I LOVE. The Land I love is where the south-winds linger, And stately palms by crystal rivers grow, — Where bright flow'rs bloom when Winter's chilling finger Bids other countries don their robes of snow. My Land's a queen o'er summer always reigning, . Her diadem is flow'rs and stars of night; Her winning smile of sunshine ever chaining All hearts to my dear Land of love and light. The Land I love is filled with mystic fragrance When Springtime's snows have fallen on the groves, — A Land so bright, so full of wondrous radiance Where beauty hand in hand with Nature roves ; For 'tis a Land of golden sunlight streaming Through dreamy air amid the forest trees, — A fairyland with silver moonlight beaming On her dear hills in benison of peace. The Land I love hath ruby skies at morning. When purple curtains canopy the dawn, And rainbow-tinted evening clouds adorning The outer fringe of heaven's golden lawn ; And she hath million sparkling sunbeams dancing Upon the thousand lakes which gem her breast; And glist'ning myriads of fireflies glancing Through twilight air when day hath won her rest. The Land I love hath days of brilHant splendor When brightest sunshine fills her azure skies; And soft blue nights beneath the moonlight tender When fairy dreams and fitful fancies rise; For my dear Land, it is a land dream-laden, Borne on the breeze, the sunshine, and the night, — Night silent, like a waiting vestal maiden. White-robed and halo-crow^ned with holy light, The Land I love hath robes of golden vapor Which clothe her hills in vails of filmy light. My Queen of Lands hath m-any a starry taper In luster shining in her crown of night ; And she hath groves of golden apple-bearing, — (The mystic fruit of ancient songs divine), — Where birds and butterflies, gay plumage wearing. Amid the boughs in brilliant beauty shine. My Land hath lakes which like blue sapphires sparkle When sun's bright scepter stretches o'er the land. But change to pearls when evening shadows darkle Upon the brightness of her silver strand; And she hath breezes, balmy and caressing. Which ozone-laden from the ocean rove. For Nature's bounteous God is ever blessing Our fair}^ Florida, the Land I love. THE. UPPER ST. JOHNS. A NEW YEAR SONG. The music of a thousand Jasmine bells Rings fairy paeans forth triumphantly; In ev'ry grove the joyous anthem swells From tender-throated birds of melody. Ring out, ye flow'ry bells ; sing on, O birds, Until your burden strike our slow dull ear; O Nature, chant aloud the happy words, "A elad New Year." Fair Roses, bursting forth to meet the morn Waft incense round on ev'ry passing breeze. Shy flowers look up to greet the year new-born, And throw their scents aloft among the trees. Ye subtle perfumes of the myrtle bough, — All mystic fragrance that doth lurk anear, — Breathe forth your message in this lyric now, — "A sweet New Year." That shining vault of heaven, burnished, calm, Spreads over this fair earth its amber cloak To top with glorious crown the silver palm. And turn the morning mist to golden smoke. First morning of the year, through rosy cloud. The Herald of our new-born hopes, appear; From opalescent shadows shout aloud, "A bright New Year." Blue lake, reflecting on thy placid breast The marvels of the ever-changing sky,— Soft breezes, kissed by sweets, and balm-caressed, All wonder-laden as ye wander by. The broad palm-leaveS scarce stirring as ye go, — O murmur forth from waters deep and clear, And voices of the gentle zephyrs, blow "A calm New Year." The golden balls from laden orange bough, Green blades of future grain from earth that spring. And scarlet-fruited vines with snowy vow Of bearing many a fair and luscious thing; — Delicious fruits beneath the winter's sky That hang and ripen for our festive cheer, To song of birds and breath of flowers reply, "A rich New Year." O friends, loved long ago, and loving still, From you we claim a word this welcome day, — Where'er ye be, the magic whisper will Across the ocean to our glad hearts stray. Old friends or new, afar or at our side, — You whom the longing spirit holds most dear, — Give us this wish to greet the New Year tide: — "A love-filled year." YELLOW JESSAMINE. O the fairy peals are ringing, Softly, faintly, on the air; And the golden bells are swinging Where the Jasmine bloometh fair. Fair and wondrous is the story Hidden in those tiny bells, Gilded like the halls of glory Where the angels' carol swells. I have learned their secret lately, — For amid their dark green bowers. Decked by flutt'ring pennons stately, Stands the temple of the flowers. And those bells' sweet chiming telleth, That within this leafy shrine There the high-priest Nature dwelleth,- Spirit mystic and divine. While his dewy fingers sprinkle O'er the flow'rs a perfume sweet, We can hear the gold bells tinkle All around his unseen feet. Early in the morning riseth Fragrant incense through the air; While those bells' soft peal surpriseth Sleeping flow'rs with call to prayer. In the noontide bright and golden Still we hear the magic chime Like a story quaint and olden Set to wondrous fairy rhyme. Evening's crimson mantle falleth, And the night-time shades grow deep; Then each bell in concert calleth "Vespers" ere the fiow'rets sleep. All night incense' sweetest fragrance Rises from the temple bowers Through the moonlight's silver radiance From the Yellow Jasmine flowers. EVENING ON THE GULF. Still as the air where no sound we may list, Silvered the ocean sleeps under the mist; White gleam the leaves of the stately old palm,- Hushed in repose the fair evening lies calm ; Peaceful as slumber in Heaven must be Evening shines over the old, old sea. Far in the West gleams the sunset in glory, Hanging its clouds o'er the ocean so hoary, Like unto minist'ring angels of love Bathed in the beauty from radiance above^ Glorious, golden and fair as could be. Far away over the old, old sea. Ocean is gray, for the ocean is old, Clouds are so young, and these clouds are all gold ; Golden-haired daughters of ocean are they. Floating above the old father so gray, Bending their lips downward, smiling in glee, Tenderly kissing the old, old sea. Silver the tint of the sky and the land; Ocean is sleeping 'neath eve's silver wand; Golden the glow from the clouds in the west. Golden the dreams when the world is at rest. Vision of glory, O mortal to thee, Clouds of the sunset, and old, old sea. A SONG OF SPRING. Birdling, I pray thee a carol to sing, — Sing me a song of the coming of Spring, — Roses are bursting and Jessamines bloom, Orange sends forth her fragrant perfume. Winter is brief in my country so bright, — Borrow your theme from the flowers' delight. Sing me a lyric in tenderest voice. Sing as you do to the mate of your choice ; While light is streaming in joy through the land Tell me of everything beauteous and grand. As 'mid the gladness of Nature you say, "Good is this great world, this wide world is gay." What though to-morrow brings sorrow and pain, Surely to-day we'll let happiness reign; Just for to-day in the sunshine of love Bask amid fragrance that filleth the grove. Glad to believe that the whole world is true. Trust it together, both I and you. Some day the springtime will be past, Youth's fairy blooms may not evermore last; Silent our songs will grow, your song and mine, Stiller our joy will flow, my joy and thine. Earth hath its work which it calls all to do; We have to share it, both I and you. 10 But for to-day will a silver prayer, Wafting our praise through the golden air, Mounting from realms filled with beauty and love, Find a glad echo in Heaven above^ Pouring out thanks with our joy in the Spring: — Minstrel of Nature, I charge thee to sing. 11 ORANGE BLOSSOMS. Hath famous sculptor of old Greece With skillful chisel carven these? Or did Italian artist trace Each tiny petal's fairy grace? And was Carrara's marble brought To form each dainty clustered knot? Or was it alabaster rare The workman used with pride and care? Did potter choose his finest clay To mold each lovely chalice? say; Or whitest silk did weaver send Such snowy grace each bud to lend? Did silversmith his ore refine And lightly trace each mystic line? Or skillful fingers use their power From mobile wax to form each flower? If these did not, then say what man Hath formed them on so choice a plan; Who hung them on the boughs of green Like snowflakes on the branches seen; 12 ■^UsJ^.1; SOME FLORIDA PALMS. Who had the skill and grace divine To trace each faintly penciled line : — To paint each petal purest white Which shineth on our raptured sight. Did oriental perfumes will With richest scent each cup to fill? O ye who can, will tell me whence There came this lovely wonder hence? From out the darksome ground, ye say. What? Did it come from sand and clay? What great magician had the power To conjure forth the magic flower? 'Twas that Magician who supreme Did all things form that fairest seem; He placed each beauteous chalice there And filled it with its perfume rare. And greater myst'ries thou'lt behold: — Each cup doth hide a ball of gold. Yea more — each wondrous flow'ret fair Hath unborn fruit-trees in its care. And these again will one day show Blossoms as fair as now do blow; So wondrous this Magician wise, So great His works are in our eyes. 13 We do not know what power He brought. With what materials He wrought; But this we know — that only He Could make such fairy flow'rets be. Could fill them with the store of gold Each silver basket doth unfold; Or in their wondrous depths have pent So rare a perfume's gracious scent. And still dost thou not know His name, Though ev'ry flow'ret breathe His fame, And ev'ry tree of Him doth show His praise by all the buds that blow? Go, search among these snowlike flowers; His name is whispered in their bowers. For there His magic feet have trod. Men call Him "Nature,"— angels, "God." 14 A FABLE. There sat a bird 'mid orange bowers, Her tone was soft, and sweet her lay; Her tone was soft, and sweet her lay, 'Twas to her love I heard her say "O Love, I judge the world through thee; Will it be false or true to me?" Now mourning on the silver spray She sat where blossoms dropped away, Their fragrance and their beauty spent; Her song was one of discontent. "The world is false, is false," sang she; "My Love he hath been false to me." She sat again upon the bough. Her notes were clear and joyous now; Her world was full of love and light, — The sky was gay, the flowers were bright. "The world is true, is true," sang she; "My Love is all the world to me." 15 THE MAGNOLIA. There are Roses in the garden, Roses crimson^ pink, and white; There are tall and stately Lilies Clad in garments fair and bright. There are flow'rs in form and color Very wonderful to see, — But the queen of all the blossoms Reigns from the Magnolia tree. There's the gorgeous drooping Myrtle, And Cape Jasmine's fragrant white; There's the flaming Oleander, Glorious blooms of beauty bright. But no flow'r within the garden — Fair and fragrant though they be — Is the Queen of all the blossoms; 'Tis on the Magnolia tree. Where the scarlet Trumpet-Creeper Opes his brilliant fiery buds. And the Yellow Jasmine twining Fills with fragrance all the woods, Flowers shine in untold beauty. And the fairest there we see; For the Queen of all the blossoms Opes on the Magnolia tree. 16 FLORIDA FLOWERS IN MIDWINTER. Pure white flow'r, in starlike beauty 'Mid your dark green leaves you shine; Emblem seem of all things holy, Seem to come from realms divine. For fair fancies twine around you Till from Heaven you seem to be, — Angel-Queen of all the blossoms, Flow'r of the Magnolia tree. What the message that you carry? O Queen-blossom, ope to view All the lessons pure and holy Nature's God hath hid in you. For the God of Nature teaches Holiness and purity Where the Queen of all the blossoms Shines on the Magnolia tree. 17 PLUMBAGO, (blue). Where did you come from, you fairy flow'r? I came from a great Magician's bow'r. He stole from the sky for my robes' pale hue The lightest tint of the sunset's blue; And he fashioned me like a rare sweet star, And bade me blossom where mortals are. He gave me leaves of the softest green Like a cloak of the glorious emerald sheen. He made me seem such a fragile thing That those who look may know I bring A thought from on high, and a message divine On those airy wings where my blossoms shine. Ev'n as my bloom's unsullied hue Was the soul my Maker gave to you; Fair as an angel's spotless wing It left His soul, a precious thing; It came to you like a star of light. The rarest flow'r in all His sight. What is it now? Is it fair and true? As a blossom pure is it kept by you? Doth it shine so bright that all may know The blessing thy soul is sent to bestow? For the flow'rs and the spirit of man have each A mission on earth and a lesson to teach. 18 ON THE PIER. List I to songs the ocean voices sing, Learning the burden which the night-winds bring, Watching the stars above me shimmering. Give me the kisses ocean breezes blow, — Give me the gems those starry heavens show; Care I for love and wealth to-night? Ah no. For who would wish the store man counts in gold While winds and skies their treasures great unfold, And soul and mind in dear enchantment hold. And who can know a loneliness of heart While Nature filleth with her magic art And sweetest minstrelsy the winds impart. Come winds, — with hidden stores of music filled; Come winds, — in richest drops of health distilled; Come, help me fairy palaces to build. Castles whose air-wrought edifice must fall. Still let me rear them, though ethereal; What though they vanish? 'Tis the fate of all. What though they vanish? Is there nothing then But just to dream and wake, and dream again? Is there aught steadfast? Tell me where and when. 19 Yea, from the shore of one unchanging Sea, From confines of the evermore To-be, Comes there the gracious whisper, "Follow Me." This is the murmur in the winds I hear; Down through the centuries these words they bear All else hath vanished — this remaineth clear. Hark to the music of a Saviour's call — Borne where the winds are sweeping ere they fall, — Grandly triumphant, rising over all. This is the message from the boundless sea, This is the whisper from eternity. From shore to shore it urges "Follow Me." 20 H hj I — I O > r !^ I — I <; ?d en O w A WHISPER FROM THE ROSES. My garden fair Hath lovely things, Hath treasures there Of fiow'rs and wings; For butterflies will hover o'er the posies, And birds will sit and sing among the Roses. Sometimes I find A sermonette Is left behind For me to get. 'Tis sweetly packed in Nature's honeyed doses And laid among those fragrant crimson Roses. For when I let Fair petals drop, And wish that yet My shears might stop, And leave sweet life where fullest bloom uncloses, She whispers, "Then you'll ne'er have better Roses." And so I go Relentless on, But as I throw Each blossom down It whispers back, "When God from life proposes To cut the sweet, it is for fairer Roses." 21 THOSE TELL-TALE ROSES. One day a lover brought a maid A bunch of summer's glory, All pink and white and red and gold, Bearing a beauteous story; For though no word or look from him The hidden thought discloses. Someone had whispered it unto Those little tell-tale Roses. So ev'ry little Rosebud said, "We know somebody loves you, And we will tell it you, although He waits until he proves you." So what he had not told to her She found out from the posies. And learned a lover's secret from Those little tell-tale Roses. 22 NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS. Art thou too pure for Sun's fierce gaze that thou dost bloom at night? Art thou afraid Day's toil might soil thy blossoms purely white? Why dost thou fear the Sun's bright glance? Why shrink to lend thy grace To glorify Day's radiant hours more than a little space? When other flow'rets hang their heads — in sleep their petals fold, — Then from that bud so tightly closed thy beauty is unrolled. Thou as the Moon doth rise to reign, and looketh down on thee, Reflectest back her pearly light, as fair a thing as she. Methinks that somewhere I have read of spirits fair and bright Who guard the pure-souled from all harm through silent hours of night. Thy garments white tell me of these, as through the moonlight pale I see thy beauty softly gleam within that silver vail. 23 O nun-like flow'r, who shrinkest from the worldly- gaze of men And 'neath the night-shades veil thy charms to bloom in beauty then^ — A spirit from a purer realm, thou through the silent hours Like to a guardian Angel bright dost watch the sleeping flow'rs. 21 < Q Pi < O < O > < A LAKE SCENE. O lovely lake, encircled by low hills, Thou liest at our feet a gem most rare. The Zephyr's music all the woodland fills Where stately forest trees thy guardians are. Thou jewel from heaven formed, thou living thing, Much dost thou tell to us, of life to show, — Thy ever-varying hue, thy waters bring Fair thoughts to those who beauteous things would know. When eastern skies day's dawning glories flush With richest red and deepest amethyst, Then on thy surface glows the rosy blush Where dawn's bright lips thy sleeping waves have kissed. A radiant gem with Nature's beauty glowing — A Ruby thou, fair lake, doth seem to be: — A living jewel whose crimson tones are showing The burning ecstasies life's morn doth see. But pales the red; morn's glories leave the sky As childhood's dreams from our horizon fade. A brilliant Sapphire 'neath noon's sun doth lie. Reflecting back the heavens' azure shade. As fair and bright as those deep waters blue Are all the hopes and plans and joys of youth; Most glorious in thy celestial hue. Meet symbol thou of all eternal truth. 25 A Topaz thou when sunset's amber light Doth hinge the heav'n and earth with bands of gold; A yellow gem in shade divinely bright Shines where thy deeps such wondrous beauties hold. Maturest manhood's hours see from the seed Planted with toil along life's rugged way Richly the golden harvest forth proceed; Life's noblest actions gild his closing day. Gone the rich flush of glory. Now the night Her silver reign doth sway, and thou dost gleam In rarest charm and beauty like a white Pure Diamond beneath each soft moonbeam. Peaceful and calm as thou old age should be, — The fitting end of life well-spent and true, — As pure, as fair, as white, the soul to see Its Maker soon, O moonlit lake, as 3^ou. 26 THE MOCKING BIRDS' MUSIC LESSON. Minims slow, — Crotchets so, — Warble all your quavers; Faster yet When you get Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 1 Clear and strong Send the song, — Never voice that wavers; At the end Trill and blend Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. Murmur next Soft unvext Notes of woodland savors; Whistle then Once again Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. Quaver, quiver. Shake and shiver All your semiquavers ; At the last, Very fast, Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 27 GOLDENROD. Where waving grasses in our forests blend And southern zephyrs to the woodlands lend Their music, murmuring amid the pines, — There feathery Goldenrod in sunlight shines. Waving its yellow cap to ev'ry breeze, Or bending down its head in careless ease, Or tossing fitfully its plumes around, Or beating cadence to the gentle sound Of Nature's music in the pine-tops tall. Where, sighing faintly, autumn breezes fall, And seek to woo the golden-crested flower By ev'ry artful means within their power. But when the breezes pass, it stands in pride As if th' alluring sunshine it defied; And in its light and golden plumes' free grace Reflects the splendor of the sun's bright face. Come; search with me the bounteous Goldenrod Where'er it shows its yellow head abroad In regal grace among the sunny flowers, — From North to South the pride of Autumn's hours. 28 DeLEON SPRINGS— "THE FOUNTAIN OE YOUTH. AFTER THE FREEZE. Lo, the Frost-King set his foot-step on the threshold of the day, Stole the fairest of our beauties, culled their fragile life away, Laid a hand with doom sore freighted on the choicest of the grove; Death and desolation wander where his icy footsteps rove. All the glory of the Rosebuds fled before his chilling breath, And the crimson Oleander knew his voice the knell of death; Gone the beauty of our Lilies — gone the Guava's leafy grace; Faded hath the smile of sunshine on the Jasmine's golden face. See the proud and stately Mango, brown and dry and withered now; And the silver crown is lifted from the Date-palm's noble brow. Who hath caused such devastation? who such curse our homes hath brought? Who bore Florida such malice? who our land such mischief wrought? 29 Yet the while I stand complaining, seems to me a voice doth ring, " 'Tis the Lord hath sent the terror; 'twas Love's hand hath done this thing. Do you know the secret workings of your God's Almighty grace? Have you pierced the deep recesses of His wisdom's hiding place? "By the breathing of His nostrils He has blasted all your hope. And His children in the darkness of their faith may blindly grope. Yet the Lord who rules the ice-king, rules the bud- ding of the flower^ And can once more make your country verdant as Elysian bower, " 'Tis His hand that giveth all things, — hath it ever failed thee yet? Nay; as surely as spring's blossoms shall with morn- ing dew be wet He our homes forever guardeth; — peace and plenty still will make; He who took will give abundance — He who gave may surely take." 30 THE SOUTHLAND. The charm of the Southland is o'er me — Its glamor encircles the soul ; I see not the scene that's before me, Nor list to the music's soft roll. My heart is away in the Southland, 'Mid orange, palmetto and pine; The Southland, the Southland, the Southland, For that dearest country is mine. The voice of the Southland is calling, Inviting its wand'rers home; How^ sweetly its echoes are falling On hearts that are longing to come. For oh, they are loved in the Southland, And bound by the tenderest ties. The Southland, the Southland, the Southland, Dear land of the sunny blue skies. 31 ST. VALENTINE. Now welcome dear St. Valentine Who comes through groves of palm and pine,- Jasmine and roses in his hair; His feet drop violets here and there; His hands are filled with orange-bloom, His breath is sweet with its perfume. A gift to thee, O maiden fair! — A loving heart — the .saint doth bear. He whispers in the song of birds, And murmurs through the breeze his words. He counsels maid and ardent youth To fondest vows and purest truth; And they who worship at his shrine Must heed the charge of Valentine. The Old Story. Only a red Rose, so fragrant and double, Rich with the tints of the sky at the dawn, — Yet it has driven away all my trouble, All of the gloom from my heart has been drawn. What is your magic, O lovely and sweet, Cheering the faint heart, and strengthening thus? Still the old story the Roses repeat, "God cares for 3^ou — for He careth for us." 32 WENONAH OR THE LEGEND OF SILVER SPRING. I. THE CHOICE. "Wenonah! Wenonah! Awake and choose thy love ! For many chiefs have come Their love and might to prove; No more thy maiden eyes May slumber in the night : Thy heart must be the prize Of one true warrior's might. Choose, daughter, choose The brave thine heart desires; Yet let not love refuse Mate worthy of thy sires." Wenonah heard. Roused was the Indian maid; The sleeping eyelids stirred, And she awoke dismayed. "Yea, Father, will I come," Then soft, "But how to choose? My lips perforce are dumb^ My voice I cannot use; For but to speak the name Of him I love the best Would rouse the fiercest flame In my dread father's breast." 33 "Obedient, Sire, I come, But amid all this band, For none, I leave my home. To none, I yield my hand. These chiefs are brave, dread Sire; Perchance another maid May look with fond desire, Where I am but dismayed." "Hush ! hush ! Wenonah, hush ! Obey thy sire and choose." So sang the mocking thrush In words the songsters use. But sighed the passing breeze In numbers through the trees, "Wenonah! Wenonah! Brave Chuleotah's dove! Sin not against thy love. Oh ! maiden, constant prove. Wenonah, wait." In all her charms displayed. Forth stood the beauteous maid; Around her hung Tresses of jetty black, Flinging the sunlight back. How oft those charms were sung Around the warriors' feast: At some great chief's behest Wenonah's praise had rung. 34 Now each assembled chief Inflamed with sudden ire — The anger and the grief Of unfulfilled desire — Spake to the Indian sire : "Appoint us all a task ; We do what thou wilt ask; And who doth worthiest prove Shall be Wenonah's love." Then, like a blast of fate, Spake Okahumchee's voice: "A silly girl doth prate, Now, maiden, take thy choice Say whom thy soul desires, And murmur but his name, And he shall be thy spouse Or, die a death of shame." "Wenonah ! Wenonah !" Thus sighed the mocking bird, "Fateful thy father's word; Truth is it thou hast heard. Wenonah, hush!" Vainly the warning thrush Bade the dark maid beware. Dawned on her cheek the blush, Back streamed her raven hair. "Sire, shall I speak it then? One among all brave men Seems to me first. Yet can I hardly dare 35 His name to breathe on air. How wouldst thou that name bear Thou hold'st accurst?" Stern grew the father's brow : "Maiden, speak quickly now, — Breathe but his name; Then once again I vow For bride he doth thee claim ; Or, die a death of shame." Quivered the maiden's form, As if she felt the storm Which on her words should burst. "Dearest of all brave men Is Chuleotah then. Now let me hear thy worst." His sudden anger raised, Its lightning fiercely blazed : "My vow I keep. ' To Chuleotah's hut Haste, chiefs, and tarry not. Bid him, whose name I hate. My daughter come to mate; Bid him his love to claim. The bride that's yours by right; Tell him to win by might. Or die a death of shame. 36 II. THE WARNING. "Wenonah! Wenonah! Hie swifter than the deer. Oh! thou art fleet of foot, But danger presseth near. Lo! many a maddened brave Is treading on thy path : And thou thy love would'st save From a dread father's wrath. Fly! wouldst thou be the wife Of him who slays thy chief? Speed, maiden, for dear life! Haste! haste! the time is brief. Fast, maiden! faster yet! With breathless, panting speed, Or, ere the sun be set Thy love is lost indeed. Lo! now the trees divide; For here his people rest. Now he thy form hath spied, And thou art on his breast. "Wenonah! Wenonah! Why com'st thou breathless here? Why ev'ry tangled tress, And why this speechless fear? Wherefore this drooping frame? And whence these bleeding feet? Say why Wenonah came. Yet welcome art thou. Sweet.'' 37 "Fast from an angered father's ire Hath thy Wenonah fled; And on the thorn and on the briar Wenonah's feet have bled. Oh! quickly summon all thy braves, Or thou and they fill unknown graves, And thy Wenonah be the wife Of him who takes her lover's life." III. THE BATTLE. Wenonah! Wenonah! Who crouched amid the trees, And heard the fearful sound of war Borne to thee by the breeze. Heard Chuleotah's voice Hurl curses at his foe? And bid his thirsty spear rejoice In life-blood's crimson flow? Thy love's right arm was strong To deal the fatal blow: And of the brave among that throng Laid many a chieftain low. List while I tell the tale Of all that chanced that day : — Hold for a time thy fears in sway: — Lull for a space thy heart to sleep : — And then — if Indian maidens weep — Well may thy tears prevail. 38 And blame not, maid, that I have tarried long; For as I came I saw a motley throng: I saw the human dwellers of the wood, Clad spear and bow, a mighty multitude. I heard the hateful words that mortals use As on his foeman each heaped foul abuse. But over all I heard a maiden's name: "Wenonah! Wenonah!" oft and oft it came. "Wenonah!" shouted Okahumchee stern; And Chuleotah's tribes the word return. And when that name was sounded, then I knew That there the horrid fight still fiercer grew — There deeper drank the spear — swifter the dart was thrown, And louder rose confused the yell, the curse, the groan,— Faster the arrow's straight, unerring aim, For ever as it went it bore Wenonah's name. Then rolled the fight to where the Silver Flood Flows down to meet the Oklawaha's stream. Around the Spring the thick and tangled wood Hid many a warrior's fall, and stifled many a scream. How Chuleotah fought! more fierce than all the rest! Nor mercy knew that spear — his was the ready arm — Valor or might to him no stranger guest: Foes marked his coming with a wild alarm; For by his side rode Death upon his quest. But one there was — more cunning than they all — Who could not win in fair and open fight, — Had vowed to make brave Chuleotah fall; Came like the evil beast that roams at night, And from behind plunged deep the wicked spear. Then Chuleotah groaned, and turned him with a yell- But wounded sore, to strike he must forbear — Dashed madly to the Spring, within whose depths he fell. And the pure waters took him in their arms. And spread them tenderly his form around; Soothed his vexed spirit with their potent charms. And bathed and staunched the ugly, flowing wound. There Chuleotah lay. The battle stayed. Fled all his tribe: — the victor claimed the maid; But maid they found not; so to rest they went. For wearied were the braves, and day was spent. IV. THE CALL. "Wen^nah! Wenonah! Unto thy love give ear ! Peare ! Calm ! thou need'st not dread, For none but thou can hear. My spirit comes to call Thee to a resting-place. Where silver wavelets fall On the fair Spring's crystal face. There shall the noble palm His plumes above thee wave. And whisp'ring waters calm Thy tresses gently lave; And wand'ring winds of balm Strew scents upon thy grave. ''Wenonah! Wenonah! The stately cedars call, And beckon thee to come, Where wat'ry chains enthrall Thy heart's dear chief and home. The rustling silver-bay Is sighing, 'Come away!' And swaying mosses droop, As over me they stoop. And bid my spirit hie To win the dead chief's bride. And quickly with thee fly Beneath the moonlit tide. "Wilt rise and come with me, O thou beloved and best? Or, shudd'ring, turn and flee As from an evil guest? And wilt thou to those arms Which lately slew thy love ? Or, safe from all that harms, In spirit regions rove?" Wenonah heard. 'Twas to her soul the loved voice spake; For nought without was stirred, Nor wind the silence break. 41 Which slept on night's dark breast. Swiftly the spirit-guest Passed through the forest 'mid the deep'ning night ; And fast Wenonah pressed Upon his footsteps bright. V. THE VENGEANCE. Wenonah! Wenonah! Silent and swift as thought, Thread those dark thickets deep, Until thou reach the spot Where warriors lie asleep. The drowsy guards hear nought, Nor see thy tresses gleam; Or, if they notice aught, "'Tis but some spectre dream." There lieth one, away In slumber's dreamy world. And there the spear that day At Chuleotah hurled. Maiden, it drank his blood! Maiden, why pause and think? What frightful thing doth brood? What causeth thee to shrink ?- Quick! lest the nightly owl. Disturbed, should hoot or screech; Or, the fierce panther growl The horrid feast to reach. 42 So like the panther, thou Spring fast upon thy prey. The spear is seized now, — Thy vengeance had. — Away ! Speed silently! that spirit leads thee on: And in the camp so lately passed, With one long, fierce, and dying groan His rival breathes his last : For deep within that hated heart Thy hand has sent the willing spear. Now through the night with light foot dart ! 'Twas but his due. Thou dost not fear. (For none had taught the dark-skinned forest maid Of pity or forgiveness. In her breast The strong and noble passions fitly rest: But baser feelings are with these displayed. Blame not who ne'er was taught to keep A firm restraint upon the fires that leap Like mighty giants from the hidden soul, To mar and cloud the beauty of the whole.) VI. THE END. Wenonah! Wenonah! Why now thus doubtful stand At the gate of spirit-land? Thou fearful, trembling maid! O say! art thou afraid To leap the bars that part? One sudden bound from life Will lay thee on his heart. 43 The spirit now hath gone : But in the limpid wave Lies Chuleotah's grave — Whence comes a pleading tone — "Wenonah! speed thee on!" Fled from her lips the cry, "I come ! O, love ! I come !" Then through the waters sank To Chuleotah's home. Hush ! hush ! hush ! Nor let the silence stir On ev'ry myrtle bush, On ev'ry dark-browed fir. For heart and hand to heart and hand Two clasped spirits roam ; Searching the happy hunting-land, — The blessed Indian's home. Hush! hush! hush! Keep silence o'er the spring. Let not a night-bird brush The air with careless wing. Be still till morning wake The forest birds to sing: Then all the saddened brake With this lament shall ring — Thus sing the mocking thrush : — "Wenonah! Wenonah! No more beneath the tree, At dewy morning-tide, Shall I thy tresses see; No more the chieftains vie In valorous deeds to gain Smile from thy dusky eye; Thou comest ne'er again. But amorous sunbeams play Around the sleeping fair, And opal moonbeams stray About the raven hair." And thus the meek-eyed dove In dulcet tones of love : "Wenonah, sleep ! Adown the silver deep Wind those long locks round him Thy heart loves best, And on his breast Sleep till eternity." Wenonah, fare thee w^ell. Yet thou hast left thy spell Around this Silver Spring. The birds thy fate will sing When, in the far To-Be, The pale-face maid shall come — From snow-clad Northern home — Will tell Wenonah's history; And lo ! beneath these waters fair. Far down their crystal depths, shall be Wenonah's hair. 45 .A^ 4 y: m: •1 iis: