Page:Poems Howard.djvu/79

Under those columnar trees
May not aborigines,
 Sachems of their dusky clan,
 Pow-wow counselors, have let
Hatred of the pale-faced man
Circumvent all peaceful plan—
 Or their malice to forget
 Smoked the fragrant calumet?

Native traders may have come
Bartering wampum-shells for rum—
 Or in lieu of ready cash
 Tendered baneful nicotine;
Drinking from the calabash
Fire-water, making rash
 Promises that sequel-seen,
 Proved them treacherous and mean.

Here our sires beneath the sod—
Blest reposure!—"rest in God";
 So we read upon the stones
 Crumbling, leaning out of place,
Moldering like sepulchered bones,
Tottering like terrestrial thrones,
 While the saints whose names we trace
 Stand before the Father's face.