Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/76

76  From manly virtue,—or the tempting world Make faint the christian purpose in your soul, Turn ye to Plymouth's beach,—and on that rock Kneel in their foot-prints, and renew the vow They breath'd to God.

 

See ye those mounds so green and fair, Where rest the dews, where smiles the sky? There sleeps our father's dust, and there Our own shall lie.

See ye these vales? Our children rose Like plants within their peaceful glade, And where our lifeless forms repose Shall theirs be laid.

Dark are their brows, and wild they rove Unnurtur'd o'er their native earth, Yet deep their rugged bosoms love Their land of birth.

Drive them not hence!—they only ask Their humble cabin's roof to rear, And ply the hunter's dangerous task With toil severe:—

To sow with corn the furrow'd glade, Dejected sigh o'er buried years, And sooth their frowning heroes' shade, With bitter tears. 