Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/166

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, Within her lordly crown, And broad Ohio bears it, Amid' his young renown; Connecticut hath wreathed it    Where her quiet foliage waves, And bold Kentucky breathed it hoarse Through all her ancient caves.

Wachuset 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 father's 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 step and slow, On through the trackless desert pass, A caravan of woe;