Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1836.pdf/24

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She grasped his hands,—her own were cold,— And silent turned away, As she had not a tear to shed, And not a word to say.

And pale as death she reached her boat, And guided it along; With broken voice she strove to raise A melancholy song.

None watched the lonely Indian girl,— She passed unmark'd of all, Until they saw her slight canoe Approach the mighty Fall!

Upright, within that slender boat They saw the pale girl stand, Her dark hair streaming far behind— Uprais’d her desperate hand.

The air is filled with shriek and shout— They call, but call in vain; The boat amid the waters dash'd— ’Twas never seen again!