Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, INDIANS SELL THINGS ALONG OUR STREETS, by EVELYN MABEL WATSON



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

INDIANS SELL THINGS ALONG OUR STREETS, by            
First Line: Watercress from a wind-blown mountain fall
Last Line: With wind-flowers in my exquisite bouquet. . . .
Subject(s): Flowers; Mountains; Native Americans; Salespersons; Streets; Hills; Downs (great Britain); Indians Of America; American Indians; Indians Of South America; Selling; Avenues


Watercress from a wind-blown mountain fall,
spruce resins from a fragrant tree and tall,
sassafras in little bundles, tied,
Arbutus which they found to warmly hide
beneath the snows, and by a frost-starred rock --
Oh, at my heart the Indian braves now knock --
The dark-shawled faces of the friendly squaws
are deeply bronzed as autumn's hips and haws.
Brown their hands, and wise their peering eyes --
remembering when worlds were otherwise . . .
Yet mountain paths and rivers are vouchsafed
and villages -- their spirits have not chafed
too greatly -- are not these now magic towers
of town to which they bring their forest flowers?
Orchids gold, and white and pink,
Wintergreen from out a mossy chink,
Those small crowned kings, the bluest huckleberries
And winter's heavy string of bright ground cherries . . .
Small their fees and cheerily I pay,
by proxy having climbed a hill today
with wind-flowers in my exquisite bouquet. . . .





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