"
Pocahontas at the doorway saw him coming,
Saw his shadow fall upon the broidered beading,
And her nimble lingers paused, she upward glanced,
Radiant smile came swiftly as she met his gaze,
For he oft had spoke her kindly since her advent
As a maid forlorn to dwell at once-loved Jamestown.
Rolfe sat down beside her, questioning Pocahontas
Of her kindred, of the tribes that lived about them,
Of her playmates in the pretty upland village,
Of the warriors who had fought (and died in fighting)
For the Red Man's country, for the Powhatans.
Of the old squaw, Winganameo, who had taught her,
Of the young bucks who had danced around the campfires.
Thus at length spoke Rolfe in softened tones and serious:
"Pocahontas, I am lonely. Many times
Moons have waxed and waned since first I landed homeless
On this shore; still my fireside is lacking
Woman's presence. And my heart was desolate
Till your face I saw beside this cottage door,
And your voice did stir the depths of my affections.
Simple is my wooing, but my love sincere—
Pocahontas, hear me! you are lonely, too.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38