University of Virginia Library

40   Now I tell what my mother told me to-day as we      sat at dinner together,
Of when she was a nearly grown girl, living home      with her parents on the old homestead.
41  A red squaw came one breakfast-time to the old      homestead,
On her back she carried a bundle of rushes for rush-     bottoming chairs,
Her hair, straight, shiny, coarse, black, profuse, half-     envelop'd her face,
Her step was free and elastic, and her voice sounded      exquisitely as she spoke.
42  My mother look'd in delight and amazement at the      stranger,
She look'd at the freshness of her tall-borne face, and      full and pliant limbs,
The more she look'd upon her, she loved her,
Never before had she seen such wonderful beauty and      purity,
She made her sit on a bench by the jamb of the fire-     place — she cook'd food for her,
She had no work to give her, but she gave her re-     membrance and fondness.
43  The red squaw staid all the forenoon, and toward      the middle of the afternoon she went away,
O my mother was loth to have her go away!
All the week she thought of her — she watch'd for her      many a month,
She remember'd her many a winter and many a      summer,
But the squaw never came, nor was heard of there      again.