THE INDIAN LOVER’S PLEA.
Winona! Winona! O list to my plea!
O why wilt thou leave me, O canst thou not see
How barren this world if deprived of thy love,
’Twas given to me by the Great Spirit above.
Winona! Winona! Return unto me—
From bonds of the white man O cut thyself free.
Thy heart is still mine, but the glitter of gold
Enticed thee away from thy lover of old.
The white man will weary of thee in a day,
Forsaken thou’lt be, dishonored for aye.
Thy beauty will fade, alas! for thee then!
Reviled, and dishonored, forsaken of men.
Forsaken, degraded, and then cast aside;
Dost think that the white man will make thee his bride?
My camp-fire is out, and my wigwam is cold,
The white man has won thee by the promise of gold.
I feel that I’ve loved thee in ages long gone,
Have fought for thy smiles, have always them won,
Winona dear heart, I will fight for them still,
Though broken thy troth, unbroken my will.
My arrows are broken, my bow is unstrung,
My powder-horn empty, on high it is hung.
Come back to the forest where we’ve wandered alone;
Come back to my wigwam, and I will condone
The sin of thy leaving, for thou didst not know
The wiles that the white man around thee couldst throw.
The white man will tire of thy beauty so rare,
His plaything thou’lt be, O Winona beware!
Return to thy lover before ’tis too late—
The love of an Indian is as strong as his hate.
Winona! Winona! this is my last plea!
Return unto me! O return unto me!