The Complaint Of A Forsaken Indian Woman

Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! In sleep I heard the northern gleams; The stars, they were among my dreams; In rustling conflict through the skies, I heard, I saw the flashes drive, And yet they are upon my eyes, And yet I am alive; Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! My fire is dead: it knew no pain; Yet is it dead, and I remain: All stiff with ice the ashes lie; And they are dead, and I will die. When I was well, I wished to live, For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; But they to me no joy can give, No pleasure now, and no desire. Then here contented will I lie Alone, I cannot fear to die. Alas! ye might have dragged me on Another day, a single one! Too soon I yielded to despair; Why did ye listen to my prayer When ye were gone my limb were stronger; And oh, how grievously I rue, That, afterward, a little longer, My friends, I did not follow you! For strong and without pain I lay, Dear friends, when ye were gone away. My Child! they gave thee to another, A woman who was not thy mother. When from my arms my Babe they took, On me how strangely did he look ! Through his whole body something ran, A most strange working did I see; As if he strove to be a man, That he might pull the sledge for me: And then he stretched his arm, how wild! Oh mercy! like a helpless child. My little joy! my little pride! In two day more I must have died. Then do not weep and grieve for me; I feel I must have died with thee. O wind, that o'er my head art flying The way my friends their course did bend, I should not feel the pain of dying, Could I with thee a message end; Too soon, my friend, ye went away; For I had many thing to say. I'll follow you across the snow; Ye travel heavily and slow; In spite of all my weary pain I'll look upon your tent again. My fire is dead, and snowy white The water which beside it stood: The wolf has come to me to-night, And he has stolen away my food. Forever left alone am I; Then wherefore should I fear to die ? Young as I am, my course is run, I shall not see another sun; I cannot lift my limb to know If they have any life or no. My poor forsaken child, if I For once could have thee close to me, With happy heart I then would die, And my last thought would happy be; But thou, dear Babe, art far away, Nor shall I see another day.