230 THE STAR FLOWER. 



But when the burial rites were done, 



And he in forest glade was sleeping, 

 There came a gentle Indian maid, 

 Whose starry eyes were dim with weeping. 



She built her lodge beside the grave, 



And there, as passed each dreary morrow, 



She still her faithful vigil held, 

 And dwelt alone with love and sorrow. 



Full soon beneath Annunga's* care, 



The turf was decked with many a flower, 



Until Death's dreary home appeared 

 As fair as Love's own chosen bower. 



There lingered last the buds of spring, 



There first glowed forth the summer's bloom, 



And autumn's gayest flowrets shed 

 Their glories round that wood-land tomb. 



All day within her silent lodge 



The mourner shrunk before the light, 



For earth beneath the sun's glad ray 

 Seemed to her tearful eye too bright. 



But when the shades of evening fell, 

 Deepening the tint of leaf and blossom, 



And stars came looking meekly forth, 

 Glassed in the river's tranquil bosom, 



•Annung, i. e, The Star. 



