And trample the rice which grows wild on its brink;
The freshness untouch’d of earth’s beauties declare,
Neither pride, pomp, nor envy, have ever been there;
[p7]
Here Nature resides—nothing human is seen;
Foot of man hath not pass’d o’er that prairie I ween,
Unless some few wandering Indians have pass’d—
Of their sorrowing tribe perhaps nearly the last.
I should fail to describe in a picturesque manner
The splendid repose of that grassy Savanna;
Tall shadows swept out from the forest of pine, }