Ye shall say they all have passed away,
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That noble race and brave,
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That their light canoes have vanish'd
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From off the crested wave.
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That 'mid the forests where they roam'd
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There rings no hunter's shout;
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But their name is on your waters,
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Ye may not wash it out.
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'Tis where Ontario's billow
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Like Ocean's surge is curled;
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Where strong Niagara's thunders wake
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The echo of the world;
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Where red Missouri bringeth
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Rich tributes from the west,
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And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps
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On green Virginia's breast.
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Ye say, their cone-like cabins,
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That cluster'd o'er the vale,
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Have fled away like wither'd leaves
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Before the autumn gale:
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But their memory liveth on your hills,
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Their baptism on your shore;
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Your everlasting rivers speak
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Their dialect of yore.
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Old Massachusetts wears it
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Within her lordly crown,
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And broad Ohio bears it
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'mid all her young renown;
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Connecticut hath wreathed it
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Where her quiet foliage waves,
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And bold Kentucky breathed it hoarse
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Through all her ancient caves.
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Wachuset hides its lingering voice
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Within its rocky heart,
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And Alleghany graves its tone
|
Throughout his lofty chart:
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Monadnock on his forehead hoar
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Doth seal the sacred trust;
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Your mountains build their monument,
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Though ye destroy their dust
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-----------------
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Indian Names
|
Natalie Merchant |