Comet and Other Verses — To the Delaware

To the Delaware Cease thy murmuring, Delaware, For thy many braves so fair Who are sleeping by thy stream-- Rouse them not--there let them dream.

For upon that silent shore Indian's cry shall sound no more.

There, where still the owlets cry And the solemn night-winds sigh, Let the victor's head remain With the spirits of the slain, Leave the warriors fast asleep Where the willows o'er them weep, For thy murmuring, Delaware, Cannot wake those sleeping there, For thy voice deep in the foam Cannot ever call them home.

There, where low and high degree Sleep beneath the self-same tree, And where warriors small and great, Share in death a common fate, Leave the pale-face and the braves Side by side within their graves.

There, where ridges lifting high Try to bridge the endless sky, And where willows bend like lead O'er the footprints of the dead-- To each brother slumbering there, Sing sweet songs, my Delaware.

REQUIEM:

Brave!

--thy happy days have fled Into silence with the dead;

Thy canoe, thy well-worn way, And thy bow are in decay.

And no more thy camp-fires gleam By thy sweet, complaining stream;

And I mourn thy ruthless fate;

Weeping am I--but too late-- For upon that silent shore Indian's cry shall sound no more.