no 



you see Choctaw and Cherokee, Seneca and 

 Oneida, range the fair land, and hold corn- 

 dance or sing death - song. Truly these 

 warrior stalks, green and sturdy, shall serve 

 while time endures to recall that lost race. 



For the most part, there is only bare black 

 earth at foot of these lancers of plenty. Now 

 and again you see a tuft of crab-grass send- 

 ing its slender claws all along the clean fur- 

 rows. Here, too, where a runnel brings down 

 the wash of the garden, there spreads an acre 

 of morning-glories. How they climb and 

 writhe from stalk to stalk ! What witchery 

 of tender lines they spread here in this green 

 gloom ! White, blue, pink, crimson, royal 

 purple, glaring scarlet, spotted and striped 

 in all fashions, the wreathen bells hang, as 

 tenderly translucent as though shaped from 

 dawn and dew. Truly these be sweet bells 

 that shall never jangle out of tune. In the 

 open they would live scarce an hour ; here, 

 high noon will find them fair as the day it- 

 self, with yet a loitering dew-drop in each 

 pearly heart. 



Far different are the marsh - blossoms 

 glowing so yellowly upon its border. They 

 might be made of sun-rays massed and mint- 

 ed, so stiff, so golden, do they nod. Prouder 

 than pride they stand, turning full heaven- 



