Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/174



the dear, domestic bower, There sprang a tree of healing power; Its leaflets, damp with gentle rain, Could sooth or quell the pang of pain; And 'neath its shade a maiden grew, She shared its fruit, she drank its dew.

Oft at her side a youth was seen, With glance of love and noble mien; At twilight hour a favour'd guest, Her trembling hand he warmly press'd; At length, with guileless heart and free, She said, "I'll plant that tree for thee."

Her little brother climb'd her knee: "You must not go away from me; The nightly prayer with me you say, And sooth me when I'm tired of play:" His sister's eye with tears was dim: She said, "I'll plant that tree for him."

"Its roots are deep," the mother said; "Beyond the darkling grave they spread:" "Thy hand is weak," the father cried; "Too young thou art to be a bride." Serene she spake, "I look above For strength to plant the tree of love."