The Helot (Isabella Valancy Crawford Poems)
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
I.Low the sun beat on the land, Red on vine and plain and wood;With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Helot ...
From his far wigwam sprang the strong North WindAnd rush'd with war-cry down the steep ravines,And wrestl'd with the giants ...
The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stoodSquare shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,With many windows looking everywhere;So that ...
The South Wind laid his moccasins aside,Broke his gay calumet of flow'rs, and castHis useless wampun, beaded with cool dews,Far ...
When the moon was horned the mother died, And the child pulled at her hand and knee,And he rubbed her cheek ...
In the lone place of the leaves,Where they touch the hanging eaves,There sprang a spray of joyous song that sounded ...
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