Is it a mist[284] o’er the distant shore?
Look how the maiden’s[285] dusky face
Glows and brightens! a moment more,
And the white speck changes,[286] and grows apace.
He comes! he comes! From the wigwams near
Gather the braves[287] and the squaws again;
The men are decked with arrow and spear,
And the women of wampum and feathers vain.
Flecked is the river[288] with light canoes,
Laden with gifts for the welcome guest;