“These are our wrongs, and who can ever mend
The belt thus broken by the rebel train?
The falling waters with earth’s bosom blend,
And who shall hold them in his palm again?
Against the common foe our warriors spend
Their blood like rivers—who can wake the slain?
Heal up the wounds for other men endured—
Give back the blood which has their rest secured?”
The Sachem ceased, and mingled murmurs ran