Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INDIAN LULLABY, by CLAUDE BRYAN



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INDIAN LULLABY, by            
First Line: Sleep, my little papoose, sleep on
Last Line: Should be thy lullaby.
Subject(s): Native Americans; Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America


Sleep, my little papoose, sleep on,
Nor hark to the marsh-bird's cry;
The sighing breeze in the forest trees
Shall be thy lullaby.
Thy father tracketh the wounded bear,
The moose to its covert flies;
But my little papoose can have no care,
With sleep in his coal-black eyes.
So, sleep, my little papoose, sleep on,
Nor hark to the marsh-bird's cry;
The sighing breeze in the forest trees
Shall be thy lullaby.

Sleep, my little papoose, sleep on,
Sleep sound on the wigwam floor;
Soon thy shaft shall find the mountain hind,
And thy knife be dipped in war.
The Big Chief camps on the coyote's trail,
There's blood in the western sky;
But my little papoose hears not the wail,
With sleep in his coal-black eye.
So, sleep, my little papoose, sleep on,
Nor hark to the bittern's cry,
Lest the somber rhymes in the sachem pines
Should be thy lullaby.





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