Her silent homage drank as ’twere his due.
Winona asked no more though madly fond,
Nor hardly dreamed as yet of closer bond;
But Chance, or Providence, or iron Fate
(Call it what name you will), or soon or late,
Bends to its purpose every human will,
And brings to each its destined good or ill.
THE GROVE.
O’erlooking Minnetonka’s shore,
A grove enchanted lured of yore,