Her radiant brow in some dark cloud,
And dewy tears of morning flow
For scenes of blood on earth below!
See, in the forest’s thickest maze
The dark-eyed Indian tribes assembling,
Free as the pure fresh breeze that plays
On leaves around them trembling.
Wild Nature’s wilder sons,—each brow
The radiant sun of western lands
Hath kindled to a redder glow;