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AN INDIAN LEGEND.

Oft o'er the watery waste the red-man turned,

With wistful gaze, his patient, watchful eye,

And sought each morn and slowly passing day

In vain the promised vessel to descry.

But when the earth grew white with winter snows,

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And crystal chains were circling all the shore,

He clasped his dark-browed bride, and bade her trust

In heart the white man's promise nevermore.

Slant shone the sun, and shorter day by day

The genial warmth, and blessing of the light,

And o'er them early fell in deepening gloom

The cheerless darkness of the winter night.

The gathering snow almost concealed the roof

That gave them shelter from the angry blast;

Yet from the blazing pine, and love-lit eyes,

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