An Indian came from the forest deep,
A hunter in weary plight,
Who in humble accents asked to sleep
’Neath the planter’s roof that night.
To the Indian’s need he took no heed,
But forbade his longer stay;
“Then give me,” he said, “but a crust of bread,
And I’ll travel on my way.”
In wrath the planter this denied,
Forgetting the golden rule;
“Then give me, for mercy’s sake,” he cried,
“A cup of water cool.
“All day I have travell’d o’er fen and bog,
In chase of the bounding deer;”
“Away,” cried the planter, “you Indian dog,
For you shall have nothing here.”
The Indian turned to his distant home,
Though hungry and travel sore,
And the planter enter’d his goodly dome,
Nor thought of the Indian more.
When the leaves were sere, to chase the deer,
This self same planter went,
And bewildered stood, in a dismal wood,
When the day was fully spent.
He had lost his way in the chase that day,
And in vain to find it tried,
When a glimmering light fell on his sight,
From a wigwam close beside.
He thither ran, and a savage man
Received him as a guest;
He brought him cheer, the flesh of deer,
And gave him of the best.
Then kindly spread for the white man’s bed,
His softest skins beside,
And at break of day, through the forest way,
Went forth to be his guide.
At the forest’s verge, did the planter urge,
His service to have paid,
But the savage bold refused his gold,
And thus to the white man said: