"Father," cried the Princess, kneeling by the bedside
Of the sometime President, who suffering lay--
"Art thou wounded sore, and is it true they say
That to England thou must go, or life's in danger?
Winganameo comes to nurse thee at my bidding,
She the old squaw of my people hath much knowledge,
Many wounded, sick to death has helped to cure--
Must thou go across the distant waters, Father?"
Scarcely had the wounded Captain strength to answer,
But he feebly placed his hand upon her head,
"Child, 'tis true indeed, that I am past your aid,
And must seek for London surgery, since the wound
From explosion of the powder festers sore;
Hence I leave our well-loved colony for England--
If I live I'll come again unto Virginia.
Pocahontas! first as little maid I saw thee,
Into noble womanhood I've watched thee growing,
Few and fleeting are the years we've known each other,
Thou hast ever been the White Man's loyal friend.
Keep the trust I give thee with my parting blessing.
Still defend these homes, make peace among thy people,
God reward thee, Princess, in the days to come.
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