Classic Poem

Nay! shrink not, lady, from my tale,
 Because, erst moved by border story,
Thy thoughtful cheek grew still more pale
 At images so dire and gory;
Nor yet—grown colder since that day—
Cry—half disdainful of my lay,
“An I NDIAN !—why, in theme so stale,
 There can be no new interest! can there?—
'Twas but some border vagrant gazing
From thicket that your boat was grazing,
 And you—you took him for a panther!”