Poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney

Indian Names

YE shall say they all have passed away,
    That noble race and brave, 
That their light canoes have vanish'd
    From off the crested wave. 
That 'mid the forests where they roam'd
    There rings no hunter's shout; 
But their name is on your waters,
    Ye may not wash it out.

'Tis where Ontario's billow
    Like Ocean's surge is curled; 
Where strong Niagara's thunders wake
    The echo of the world; 
Where red Missouri bringeth
    Rich tributes from the west, 
And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
    On green Virginia's breast.

Ye say, their cone-like cabins,
    That cluster'd o'er the vale, 
Have fled away like wither'd leaves
    Before the autumn gale: 
But their memory liveth on your hills,
    Their baptism on your shore; 
Your everlasting rivers speak
    Their dialect of yore.

Old Massachusetts wears it
    Within her lordly crown, 
And broad Ohio bears it
    'mid all her young renown; 
Connecticut hath wreathed it
    Where her quiet foliage waves, 
And bold Kentucky breathed it hoarse
    Through all her ancient caves.

Wachuset hides its lingering voice
    Within its rocky heart, 
And Alleghany graves its tone
    Throughout his lofty chart: 
Monadnock on his forehead hoar
    Doth seal the sacred trust; 
Your mountains build their monument,
    Though ye destroy their dust.

1. New-Year's Morning
2. Mr. George Beach
3. Madam Williams
4. Garafilia Mohalby
5. Mrs. Joseph Morgan

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