The young Indian girl

She came among us with the light free step

Of the wild fawn upon her native hills,

Yet in her heart a holy purpose deep,

Unchilled by fear, undreaming of life's ills;

Her soul, from childhood's superstition riven,

Looked child-like to the "white man's god" in heaven.

She came among us from that stricken band,

That wither where the white man's foot hath trod;

Destined to fade from their own father-land,

Beneath the scourging of the white man's rod.

She shrunk not from the terror of her nation —

Pale lips had breathed of Jesus and salvation!

She listened - and the bitter hatred, nurst

Within her nation's pulse, was melted there;

All tremblingly that Indian maiden first

Knelt down to offer up the white man's prayer;

And from that hour, her spirit's trust was given,

Unchangingly, to love, and hope, and heaven.

She came among us with her shadowy smile,

That sweet young wild flower from the lonely West,

To breathe our sunshine for a little while,

Then gently droop upon the earth's cold breast.

Far from her father's graves, o'er hill and water,

Sleeps the cold clay of the Ojibwa's daughter.

Her dying eye was faintly lifted up

To catch the glories of the opening heaven —

In her cold lips there lingered words of hope,

To cheer the hearts with bitterest anguish riven;

"He will not let you for my sake be stricken:

Look up to Him, when doubts and darkness thicken."

Hushed were those lips forever — still a smile,

Beautiful as the sunshine of the blest,

Lingered on cheek and lip and forehead — while

We softly laid her to her dreamless rest;

And for the living, not the lost one, weeping,

We left her to the guardian angels' keeping.