Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE INDIAN MAID'S LAMENT, by JAMES CHRISTIAN LINDBERG



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE INDIAN MAID'S LAMENT, by                    
First Line: Low as the moon on her course through the heavens, so is
Last Line: Here came my lover to woo me, manito sent him to woo me.
Subject(s): Hearts; Lament; Love - Loss Of; Love Affairs; Mourning; Bereavement


Low as the moon on her course through the heavens, so is my spirit,
Hither and yonder it flits, nowhere it ever may rest;
Sick is my heart as the flower that is broken and flung by the wayside
Shunning the glare of the day, waiting the dew of the night.
Here in the hush and the stillness away from the eyes that offend me,
Here I may offer my tears,—tears that are burning and hot,
Here I may empty my bosom, where no one may hark to my secrets,
None but the murmuring brook,—none understands her complaint.
Lonely, ah, lone is the forest, and pale are the skies far above it.
Cool are the shadows of night, balm for the sick, aching soul.
Here in the thick crowding darkness, I mourn for the lover that left me,
Mourn as the dove that is sad, calling in vain for its mate.
Here in the flood of the moonlight, and here in the shimmer of starlight,
Sweet were the words that he sang, sang to me sweetly of love.
Here came my lover to woo me, Manito sent him to woo me.





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