Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/65

Rh On the sharp rocks and piled-up ices hurled, Empty and broken, circled the canoe In the vexed pool below—but where was Weetamoo?


 * The Spring-bird has flown;
 * On the pathway of spirits
 * She wanders alone.

The song of the wood-dove has died on our shore: Mat wonck kunna-monee! We hear it no more!


 * O dark water Spirit!
 * We cast on thy wave
 * These furs which may never
 * Hang over her grave;

Bear down to the lost one the robes that she wore: Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more!


 * Of the strange land she walks in
 * No Powah has told:
 * It may burn with the sunshine,
 * Or freeze with the cold.

Let us give to our lost one the robes that she wore: Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more!


 * The path she is treading
 * Shall soon be our own;
 * Each gliding in shadow
 * Unseen and alone!

In vain shall we call on the souls gone before: Mat wonck kunna-monee! They hear us no more!


 * O mighty Sowanna!
 * Thy gateways unfold,
 * From thy wigwam of sunset
 * Lift curtains of gold!

Take home the poor Spirit whose journey is o’er: Mat wonck kunna-monee! We see her no more!

So sang the Children of the Leaves beside The broad, dark river’s coldly flowing tide; Now low, now harsh, with sob-like pause and swell, On the high wind their voices rose and fell. Nature’s wild music,—sounds of wind-swept trees, The scream of birds, the wailing of the breeze, The roar of waters, steady, deep, and strong,— Mingled and murmured in that farewell song.

the streets of Aberdeen, By the kirk and college green,
 * Rode the Laird of Ury;

Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed,
 * Pressed the mob in fury.

Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving-girl,
 * Prompt to please her master;

And the begging carlin, late Fed and clothed at Ury’s gate,
 * Cursed him as he passed her.

Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen
 * Came he slowly riding;

And, to all he saw and heard, Answering not with bitter word,
 * Turning not for chiding.