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Indian Legends and Other Poems By: Mary Gardiner Horsford (1824-1855) |
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AND OTHER POEMS.
INDIAN LEGENDS AND Other Poems.
BY MARY GARDINER HORSFORD.
NEW YORK:
J. C. DERBY, 119 NASSAU STREET. BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO.
CINCINNATI: H. W. DERBY. 1855.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
MARY GARDINER HORSFORD,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.
HOLMAN & GRAY, Printers and Stereotypers.
TO MY FATHER, SAMUEL S. GARDINER, ESQ., This Volume is Inscribed, AS A SLIGHT TESTIMONIAL OF A DAUGHTER'S GRATITUDE AND AFFECTION.
CONTENTS.
INDIAN LEGENDS. PAGE
THE THUNDERBOLT 11 THE PHANTOM BRIDE 16 THE LAUGHING WATER 23 THE LAST OF THE RED MEN 27
MISCELLANEOUS. THE PILGRIM'S FAST 36 PLEURS 40 THE LEGEND OF THE IRON CROSS 46 MY NATIVE ISLE 53 THE LOST PLEIAD 57 THE VESPER CHIME 60 THE MANIAC 68 THE VOICE OF THE DEAD 72 "A DREAM THAT WAS NOT ALL A DREAM" 75 THE JUDGMENT OF THE DEAD 78 THE HIGHLAND GIRL'S LAMENT 82 TO MY SISTER ON HER BIRTHDAY 89 THE POET'S LESSON 92 MADELINE. A LEGEND OF THE MOHAWK 95 THE DEFORMED ARTIST 104 THE CHILD'S APPEAL 110 THE DYING YEAR 115 SONG OF THE NEW YEAR 119 I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY 123 THE FALL OF JERUSALEM 126 THE FIRST LOOK 132 THE DAUGHTER OF JEPHTHAH AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 135 MONA LISA 141 SPRING LILIES 145 LINES TO D. G. T., OF SHERWOOD 149 LITTLE KATE 152 A THOUGHT OF THE STARS 155 A MOTHER'S PRAYER 160 NOTES 165
INDIAN LEGENDS.
THE THUNDERBOLT. There is an artless tradition among the Indians, related by Irving,
of a warrior who saw the thunderbolt lying upon the ground, with a
beautifully wrought moccasin on each side of it. Thinking he had
found a prize, he put on the moccasins, but they bore him away to
the land of spirits, whence he never returned.
Loud pealed the thunder
From arsenal high,
Bright flashed the lightning
Athwart the broad sky;
Fast o'er the prairie,
Through torrent and shade,
Sought the red hunter
His hut in the glade. Deep roared the cannon
Whose forge is the sun,
And red was the chain
The thunderbolt spun;
O'er the thick wild wood
There quivered a line,
Low 'mid the green leaves
Lay hunter and pine. Clear was the sunshine,
The hurricane past,
And fair flowers smiled in
The path of the blast;
While in the forest
Lay rent the huge tree,
Up rose the red man,
All unharmed and free. Bright glittered each leaf
With sunlight and spray,
And close at his feet
The thunder bolt lay,
And moccasins, wrought
With the beads that shine,
Where the rainbow hangeth
A wampum divine. Wondered the hunter
What spirit was there,
Then donned the strange gift
With shout and with prayer;
But the stout forest
That echoed the strain,
Heard never the voice of
That red man again... Continue reading book >>
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Literature |
Poetry |
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