 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
I
Long ere the Pale Face
Crossed the Great Water,
Miantowona
Passed, with her beauty,
Into a legend
Pure as a wild-flower
Found in a broken
Ledge by the seaside.
Crossed the Great Water,
Miantowona
Passed, with her beauty,
Into a legend
Pure as a wild-flower
Found in a broken
Ledge by the seaside.
Let us revere them—
These wildwood legends,
Born of the camp-fire.
Let them be handed
Down to our children—
Richest of heirlooms.
No land may claim them:
They are ours only,
Like our grand rivers,
Like our vast prairies,
Like our dead heroes.
These wildwood legends,
Born of the camp-fire.
Let them be handed
Down to our children—
Richest of heirlooms.
No land may claim them:
They are ours only,
Like our grand rivers,
Like our vast prairies,
Like our dead heroes.
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |