Page:Pieces People Ask For.djvu/199

Rh But their memory liveth on your hills.
 * Their baptism on your shore:

Your everlasting rivers speak
 * Their dialect of yore.

Old Massachusetts wears it
 * Upon her lordly crown,

And broad Ohio bears it
 * Amid his young renown;

Connecticut hath wreathed it
 * Where her quiet foliage waves,

And bold Kentucky breathes it hoarse
 * Through all her ancient caves.

Wachusett hides its lingering voice
 * Within his rocky heart,

And Alleghany graves its tone
 * Throughout his lofty chart;

Monadnock on his forehead hoar
 * Doth seal the sacred trust;

Your mountains build their monument,
 * Though ye destroy their dust.

Ye call these red-browed brethren
 * The insects of an hour:

Crushed like the noteless worm amid
 * The regions of their power,

Ye drive them from their fathers' lands,
 * Ye break of faith the seal;

But can ye from the Court of Heaven
 * Exclude their last appeal?

Ye see their unresisting tribes,
 * With toilsome steps and slow,

On through the trackless desert pass,
 * A caravan of woe:

Think ye the Eternal Ear is deaf?
 * His sleepless vision dim?

Think ye the soul's blood may not cry
 * From that far land to him?

L. H. Sigourney.