<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117616" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Indian Mother To Her Son</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy foot is on thy father's grave,<br>Thine eye is on thy father's foes,<br>Here sleeps what once was free and brave!<br>There, last his war-whoop yell arose!<br>And where thy sire's last deed was done,<br>There first thine arm shall wake, my son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou see'st this flower—thy father's heart<br>Hath nourish'd up its early bloom;<br>And thou, to me, hast been a part<br>Of life, and hope, through years of gloom.—<br>The flowret's stem is rent—and thou<br>Must tear thee from thy mother now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay, hie thee forth—the red man's yell,<br>To-night, shall break our foemen's sleep;<br>And shrieks, and flames, and blood, shall tell,<br>How Indian hearts their vengeance keep!<br>How Indian sons in memory nurse<br>Their dying sires’ revengeful curse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yon evening wreath of fleecy smoke<br>Curls gently up against the sky,—<br>But once through darker volumes broke<br>The midnight flame, the mother's cry!<br>And there again the day-beam's smile,<br>Shall view a black deserted pile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The morning of thy life was there<br>Where white man's foot now blights the soil;<br>And there return'd from chase or war,<br>Thy sire was wont to share his spoil—<br>Revenge his death! I charge thee, boy—<br>And win the warrior's noble joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117616" data-title="The Indian Mother To Her Son de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="Thy foot is on thy father's grave,/Thine eye is on thy father's foes,/Here sleeps what once was free and brave!/There, last his war-whoop yell arose!/And where thy sire's last deed was done,/There first thine arm shall wake, my son./Thou see'st th..."></div> </div> </div>

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