Classic Poem

" CHILDREN , " some old man would say,
" I shall not forget the day
When we first caught sight of land,
Oh how eagerly we scanned
Every hillock, every tree,
Skirting near enough to see,
Wondering what the shore contained,
One whole night a man remained
In a shelter that we made
There at Eastham where we stayed
Studying the oceanside,
There the first Indian we espied,
Would you know how he was drest?
On his head an eagle's crest;
On his cheekbones, high and dark,
Livid ran the mystic mark
Of the warpaint red and black,
Down his muscular broad back
Hung a cloak of woven bark;
On his feet skin-moccasins
Crossed with thongs about his shins,
And he carried in his hand
A tall ash bow ready spanned.
A furred quiver, stuffed with arrows,
Flint-tipt, feathered not for sparrows,
Strapped across his shoulder hung,
Like red bronze he stood there long,
Silent, sullen, motionless,
Hawk-eyes flashing hate's excess.
At his feet a lean dog crouched
With his wolf-jaws leathern-pouched,
And his white teeth as if snarling —
He was no sweet maiden's darling,
I assure you! As he gazed
From the hill a musket blazed
On the beach. As quick as light
Dog and Redskin slipped from sight,
And we never saw them more
On that oak-crowned, sandy shore.

On the curved end of the cape
Never once a human shape
Met our scouts as back and forth
They explored toward the north
All that boisterous wintry season.
Afterwards we learned the reason:
A fierce pestilence of measles
Through their land had swept, as weasels
Raid a henyard. Thousands died.
So Jehovah might provide
For his people to expand
And to occupy the land.
Oh, but had the Redskins known
Our condition! Like seed sown
On a stony soil were we.
All those long months secrecy
Wrapped us like a garment round
In the Mayflower , winter-bound,
Cold and wretched, starved and stifled,
Living on the corn we rifled
From a chance Indian's hidden store.
Oh, what sufferings we bore!
Then the elder men all died.
Every death we had to hide
From such eyes as might detect
How our fortunes were nigh wrecked.

One by one they forth were borne
By the others, anguish-torn,
Coffinless, with sheet for shroud,
While the snow-wind bellowed loud.
Yonder Rock then served to mark
Where they lay so cold and stark;
In that wild stern winter's gloom
It appeared like Joseph's tomb.
Yet the Lord was on our side
Howsoe'er our faith he tried,
And he saved us from our foes,
Changed to joy and strength our woes.
Children, ye must in your turn,
When life's fires less briskly burn
And old age your thinned hair snows,
Tell the children at your knee
This eventful history
Which from one who saw ye learn.

I am weary, now, and sleep
Fain would o'er my eyelids creep.
Prithee, children, run away
To your quiet evening play!