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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478616" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Indian Burying Ground</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In spite of all the learn'd have said;<br>I still my old opinion keep,<br>The posture, that we give the dead,<br>Points out the soul's eternal sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not so the ancients of these lands --<br>The Indian, when from life releas'd<br>Again is seated with his friends,<br>And shares gain the joyous feast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,<br>And ven'son, for a journey dress'd,<br>Bespeak the nature of the soul,<br>Activity, that knows no rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His bow, for action ready bent,<br>And arrows, with a head of stone,<br>Can only mean that life is spent,<br>And not the finer essence gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou, stranger, that shalt come this way.<br>No fraud upon the dead commit --<br>Observe the swelling turf, and say<br>They do not lie, but here they sit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here still lofty rock remains,<br>On which the curious eye may trace,<br>(Now wasted, half, by wearing rains)<br>The fancies of a older race.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here still an aged elm aspires,<br>Beneath whose far -- projecting shade<br>(And which the shepherd still admires<br>The children of the forest play'd!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There oft a restless Indian queen<br>(Pale Shebah, with her braided hair)<br>And many a barbarous form is seen<br>To chide the man that lingers there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,<br>In habit for the chase array'd,<br>The hunter still the deer pursues,<br>The hunter and the deer, a shade!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And long shall timorous fancy see<br>The painted chief, and pointed spear,<br>And reason's self shall bow the knee<br>To shadows and delusions here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Philip+Freneau">Philip Freneau</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=478616" data-title="The Indian Burying Ground de Philip Freneau" data-description="In spite of all the learn'd have said;
I still my old opinion keep,
The posture, that we give the dead,
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.

Not so the ancients of these lands --
The Indian, when from life releas'd
Again is seated with his friend..."></div>
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