“Too gentle of mien he seemed, and fair,
For a child of those rugged steeps;
His home lay low in the valley, where
The kingly Hudson rolls to the deeps;
But he wore the hunter’s frock that day,
And a slender gun on his shoulder lay.
“And here he paused, and against the trunk
Of a tall grey linden leant,
When the broad clear orb of the sun had sunk
From his path in the frosty firmament,