A Seminole died with the sun in the west, White Heron wailed to the Moon's white crest, A cinnamon skin lay paled till the blush Of a muck smoked sun rose warm and lush On a tangled path to a Cypress rest. Within her wilted heart was vest A stoic power, an Indian test, And none would know by the evening hush A Seminole died. She asked no God to call him blest, As she laid him bare to the swamp's incest, And kindled his gig and his gun with brush, Then hurried back to communal mush And bronze hands, unaware that pulled at her breast -- A Seminole died. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER TO SON by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES A DIRGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AT BETHLEHEM: 3. TO HIS MOTHER by JOHN BANISTER TABB FATA MORGANA by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS MIRACLE by LIBERTY HYDE BAILEY THE PILGRIM SOUL by MATHILDE BLIND ON THE LOSS OF PROFESSOR FISHER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |