Page:Scenes in my Native Land.pdf/217

Rh O'er cloud-capped mounts, through forests, dense with shade, O'er bridgeless rivers, swoln to torrents hoarse, O'er prairies like the never-ending sea, Following the chart that had been dimly traced By stranger-guide. At length they reached a lodge, Deep in the wilderness, beside whose door A wrinkled woman, with the Saxon brow Sate, coarsely mantled in her blanket-robe, The Indian pipe between her shrivelled lips. Yet, in her blue eye dwelt a gleam of thought, A hidden memory, whose electric force Thrilled to the fount of being, and revealed The kindred drops, that had so long wrought out A separate channel. With affection's haste The sister clasped her neck, "Oh lost and found! Lily! dear sister! praise to God above!" Then, in wild sobs, her trembling voice was lost. The brother drew her to his side, and bent A long and tender gaze, into the depths Of her clear eye. That glance unsealed the scroll Of many years. Yet no responding tear Moistened her cheek, nor did she stretch her arms To answer their embrace. "O Lily! love! For whom this heart so many years hath kept Its dearest place," the sister's voice resumed,