Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/206

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Self-sacrificing, upright, pure, Of feeble hope the guide, With judgment clear, a soul subdued, And wealth without its pride, The widow in her lowly cell Must long thy loss deplore, The orphans wait thy step in vain, Thou com'st to them no more.

The path of duty and of zeal, Who now, like thee, shalt tread? And deeply for ourselves we mourn That thou art of the dead.