William Cullen Bryant
First Lines
An Indian girl was sitting where
Ay, gloriously thou standest there,
Beneath the forest's skirt I rest,
Come, take our boy, and we will go
Erewhile, on England's pleasant shores, out sires
I broke the spell that held me long,
Lament who will, in fruitless tears,
Oh, deem not they are blest alone
Oh, fairest of the rural maids!
Soon as the glazed and gleaming snow
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
They talk of short-lived pleasure --be it so --
When beechen buds begin to swell,
When breezes are soft and skies are fair,
When he, who, from the scourge of wrong,
When insect wings are glistening in the beam
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