Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/175

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Before the holy priest she stood, Her fair cheek dy'd with rushing blood; And as, with hands to heaven display'd, Strong vows upon her soul he laid, Her heaving breast, like fluttering bird, Her snowy mantle wildly stirr'd.

But when the hallow'd cirque of gold, Of deathless love the promise told, Mysterious power her spirit felt, And at the altar's foot she knelt: "My God, my God, I'll cling to thee, And plant for him that blessed tree."

Around their home its branches spread, Its buds she nursed, its root she fed; Though flaunting crowds, with giddy look, Of toil so meek slight notice took, Yet hovering angels mark'd with pride The green tree of the blessed bride.