4
Behold a sail! another, and another!
Like living things on the broad river's breast;
What were thy secret thoughts, oh red-brow'd brother,
As toward the shore those white-winged wanderers press'd?
But lo! emerging from her forest zone,
The bow and quiver o'er her shoulder thrown,
With nodding plumes her raven tresses dress'd,
Of queenly step, and form erect and bold,
Yet mute with wondering awe, the New World meets the Old.
Like living things on the broad river's breast;
What were thy secret thoughts, oh red-brow'd brother,
As toward the shore those white-winged wanderers press'd?
But lo! emerging from her forest zone,
The bow and quiver o'er her shoulder thrown,
With nodding plumes her raven tresses dress'd,
Of queenly step, and form erect and bold,
Yet mute with wondering awe, the New World meets the Old.
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