Ianthe And Other Poems
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Aye, long around his home of vines, He sits upon the tree and pines, And knows no joy till in the skies, In blissful hour the lost he spies ! Mourns not the lion in his lair, When she, who bore with him a share Of grief, or joy, in frolic play, Is snatched by death from him away ? How wake the woods, with echoes loud, The monarch of the forest, bowed, Roars for his mate for days in vain, Ere he returns to lair again ! So Cow-bick-ee, his bride bewails, His spirit sinks, and slo\vly pales His li...p and brow, before so free, For her, his perished Do-hum-mee I Do-hum-mee* was Iowa s pride, A fairer rose hath never sprung The forest glens, or rocks among, * An Indian Princess. POEMS. IQ7 Than she, the sweet young Indian maid, Whose childhood in the wood was played, Where bends the fern, and towers the pine, Dressed in its robes of leaf and vine, By many a murmuring streamlet s side- There, far away, the princess grew, As lovely as the hare-bell blue, Which only drinks the morning dew, And smiles from lise to set of sun ; Like silken threads, her waving hair Streamed loose upon the taintless air, Her deep black eye shot forth a flame With power the strongest heait to tame, And make it vassal at her will Her cheeks were fair as roses blown Upon some mossy hillock thrown, And when she smiled, they dimpled o er Like sun-gilt waves that kiss the shore, And cast, when ruffled by the breeze, A sheen upon the bending tiees, Which seem to stoop with ravished gaze, As on the shining ripple plays Her tread was light as frighted deer s Whose leap o er chasm, and brushwood clears, Who snuffs in haste the mountain gale, While dog and hunter wend the vale Her heart was warm, and pure, and free, 108 POEMS.
What to read after Ianthe And Other Poems?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Carlos D Stuart to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
Aye, long around his home of vines, He sits upon the tree and pines, And knows no joy till in the skies, In blissful hour the lost he spies ! Mourns not the lion in his lair, When she, who bore with him a share Of grief, or joy, in frolic play, Is snatched by death from him away ? How wake the woods, with echoes loud, The monarch of the forest, bowed, Roars for his mate for days in vain, Ere he returns to lair again ! So Cow-bick-ee, his bride bewails, His spirit sinks, and slo\vly pales His li...p and brow, before so free, For her, his perished Do-hum-mee I Do-hum-mee* was Iowa s pride, A fairer rose hath never sprung The forest glens, or rocks among, * An Indian Princess. POEMS. IQ7 Than she, the sweet young Indian maid, Whose childhood in the wood was played, Where bends the fern, and towers the pine, Dressed in its robes of leaf and vine, By many a murmuring streamlet s side- There, far away, the princess grew, As lovely as the hare-bell blue, Which only drinks the morning dew, And smiles from lise to set of sun ; Like silken threads, her waving hair Streamed loose upon the taintless air, Her deep black eye shot forth a flame With power the strongest heait to tame, And make it vassal at her will Her cheeks were fair as roses blown Upon some mossy hillock thrown, And when she smiled, they dimpled o er Like sun-gilt waves that kiss the shore, And cast, when ruffled by the breeze, A sheen upon the bending tiees, Which seem to stoop with ravished gaze, As on the shining ripple plays Her tread was light as frighted deer s Whose leap o er chasm, and brushwood clears, Who snuffs in haste the mountain gale, While dog and hunter wend the vale Her heart was warm, and pure, and free, 108 POEMS.
What to read after Ianthe And Other Poems?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Carlos D Stuart to read onlineMoreLess
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