And the wigwam village and the dark-skinned natives.
None in all the land, from mountain unto sea,
None more brave, more stern, and none more feared than he.
Dear to him the chase, the war, the trembling captives,
And the rustling pines whose fragrance filled the air--
Ah! 'Twas in the Springtime, and the world was fair.



[FN#1] Matoax, tribal name of Pocahontas.

[FN#2] Werowance, ruler or chief.



Evening came; the tired earth had dropped asleep,
Born the Maytide night in silence calm and deep,
Bright in azure vault of heaven the twinkling stars
Vigils kept, as lover over his beloved.
Only one sound the twilight stillness broke upon,
Crooning of Indian mother to her babe.
Fainter grew the mother-song, and died away;
Then, as if inspired by oft-repeated strain,
Suddenly a mocking-bird took up refrain--
New World nightingale whose joyous warbling thrills
Hearts responsive to the clear, melodious trills.
Did the music fall upon unheeding ears
Of the Indian hunters as they slumbering lay?
Rather in their dreams those forest natives heard
Echoes of the warrior's triumphant song