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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391535" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Indian Woman's Death-Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Non, je ne puis vivre avec un coeur brisé® Il faut que je retrouve la joie, et que je m'unisse aux esprits libres de l'air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bride of Messina<br>, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Madame De Stael</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let not my child be a girl, for very sad is the life of a woman.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Prairie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">DOWN a broad river of the western wilds,<br>Piercing thick forest glooms, a light canoe<br>Swept with the current: fearful was the speed<br>Of the frail bark, as by a tempest's wing<br>Borne leaf-like on to where the mist of spray <br>Rose with the cataract's thunder. Yet within,<br>Proudly, and dauntlessly, and all alone,<br>Save that a babe lay sleeping at her breast,<br>A woman stood. Upon her Indian brow <br>Sat a strange gladness, and her dark hair wav'd <br>As if triumphantly. She press'd her child,<br>In its bright slumber, to her beating heart,<br>And lifted her sweet voice that rose awhile<br>Above the sound of waters, high and clear,<br>Wafting a wild proud strain, her Song of Death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Roll swiftly to the Spirit's land, thou mighty stream and free!<br>Father of ancient waters, 5 roll! and bear our lives with thee!<br>The weary bird that storms have toss'd would seek the sunshine's calm,<br>And the deer that hath the arrow's hurt flies to the woods of balm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Roll on! my warrior's eye hath look'd upon another's face, <br>And mine hath faded from his soul, as fades a moonbeam's trace; <br>My shadow comes not o'er his path, my whisper to his dream,<br>He flings away the broken reed roll swifter yet, thou stream!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The voice that spoke of other days is hush'd within his breast,<br>But mine its lonely music haunts, and will not let me rest; <br>It sings a low and mournful song of gladness that is gone,<br>I cannot live without that light. Father of waves! roll on!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Will he not miss the bounding step that met him from the chase?<br>The heart of love that made his home an ever sunny place?<br>The hand that spread the hunter's board, and deck'd his couch of yore?<br>He will not! roll, dark foaming stream, on to the better shore!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some blessed fount amidst the woods of that bright land must flow,<br>Whose waters from my soul may lave the memory of this wo;<br>Some gentle wind must whisper there, whose breath may waft away<br>The burden of the heavy night, the sadness of the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou, my babe! tho' born, like me, for woman's weary lot,<br>Smile! to that wasting of the heart, my own! I leave thee not; <br>Too bright a thing art thou to pine in aching love away,<br>Thy mother bears thee far, young Fawn! from sorrow and decay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She bears thee to the glorious bowers where none are heard to weep,<br>And where th' unkind one hath no power again to trouble sleep;<br>And where the soul shall find its youth, as wakening from a dream,<br>One moment, and that realm is ours. On, on, dark rolling stream!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Felicia+Dorothea+Hemans">Felicia Dorothea Hemans</a><div class=q>
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<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=391535" data-title="Indian Woman's Death-Song de Felicia Dorothea Hemans" data-description="Non, je ne puis vivre avec un coeur brisé® Il faut que je retrouve la joie, et que je m'unisse aux esprits libres de l'air.

Bride of Messina
, 

Madame De Stael

Let not my child be a girl, for very sad is the life of a woman.

The Prairie.

D..."></div>
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