Holdeth with silent joy the book that blendeth
Life and life’s hope—its comfort and its guide.
Breathing in his warm look the bliss that springing—
The pure, bright thoughts that thrill his yearning breast,
The golden visions that around are flinging,
Their airy spells of future love and rest.
But there is one upon the ground reposing,
With curious gaze, yet wild, irreverent air,
Whose fallen deer-skin her full charms disclosing,
With beaded arms, and crimson braided hair,