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grew in beauty, side by side, They fill'd one home with glee;— Their graves are sever'd, far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea.

The same fond mother bent at night O'er each fair sleeping brow; She had each folded flower in sight,— Where are those dreamers now?

One, midst the forests of the west, By a dark stream is laid— The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.